


Waves (it comes and goes)

by SunSpell80



Series: The things we lost in the fire [1]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: (they are featured more in the sequel), Canon Divergent After Season 3, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Sexual Assault, Post Season 3, Pre-Relationship, Recovery, Specific trigger warners for each chapter in notes, Spoiler: Not the parents, difficult parent-child relationship, firefam - Freeform, other characters as background characters, slow-burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:40:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24149095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunSpell80/pseuds/SunSpell80
Summary: Evan Buckley left his past behind when he left home for good at age 19. But an unexpected phone call on a quiet shift disrupts the life he's built for himself: forcing him to confront his past in order to build a new future.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Bobby Nash, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Maddie Buckley, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: The things we lost in the fire [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761262
Comments: 177
Kudos: 1221





	1. The phone call

**Author's Note:**

> This is a heavy story, but it will not be graphic. It mostly focuses on the character coming to terms with a past trauma. Mature warning is for the themes and language only - there is no explicit sexual content in this fic. 
> 
> This story just sort of came pouring out of me after the finale. I have a good majority of it written and for once I'm going to try to stay ahead. I thought about just finishing it and posting it all in one big chunk, but I'm interested in any realtime feedback you guys choose to provide.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is the Office of the Pennsylvania Attorney General attempting to contact Evan Buckley. We have sensitive information that cannot be disclosed over voicemail. Please call us back at 717-787-3391."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific TW at end chapter notes

It was a slow day at the station - one of those “hope for boring” scenarios that Buck found himself enjoying more and more recently. 

He loved his job, loved the death-defying stunts and being able to help people. But he also loved just being at the firehouse with his team during quiet moments like this one.

Well… “quiet” was relative.

“Don’t you dare!” Hen screeched in his ear while Buck rapidly scrolled through his arsenal to find… yup. There it was. “Boy, if you throw that blue shell at me-”

“Too late!” 

Hen swore at him as Buck selected the blue shell and it came whizzing forward to knock her out of first place. “Now that’s just petty - you’re never going to be able to catch up.”

“It’s all about evening the score for the final round.”

“I’ll even your _face_.”

“Hen, that doesn’t make any sense.”

Hen hissed under her breath, too amped to reply - she’d been knocked down to fourth place and was trying to get to at least third. Buck meanwhile, was frantically attempting to jump two places for a quasi-respectable 6th place. 

So when his phone went off, there was no way he was answering it.

“Yes!” Hen whooped as she finished in second, a nose-hair before the computer-operated Luigi. “Take that you son of a bitch!”

“Language.” Bobby called half-jokingly over from the kitchen. 

“Sorry Cap. Take that you son of a _winch_.”

Eddie (who’d been mostly ignoring their shenanigans in favor of curling up on the couch to finish his book) snorted without lifting his eyes from the page.

Buck cruised into seventh place about twenty seconds later, much to his chagrin. “Hey, we’ve still got the rainbow road to go and your hand-eye coordination is _terrible_.” He retorted, digging his phone out from the couch cushions so that he could check his missed call. 

“Oh, is that how I handed you on your ass? With my terrible hand-eye coordination?” Hen crowed, always a gracious winner. 

“On a course where you can get away with bouncing off everything when you go off-road…” Buck trailed off as he looked at his missed call. It was a Philadelphia number that he didn’t recognize. He almost never got Pennsylvania calls from unknown numbers anymore - not since he’d changed his phone to an LA number a few years back. Now all his spam calls were mostly from California area codes.

He flipped to the voicemail, opting to read the transcribed text instead of listening to it. It was short, and uninformative: _This is the Office of the Pennsylvania Attorney General attempting to contact Evan Buckley. We have sensitive information that cannot be disclosed over voicemail. Please call us back at 717-787-3391_.

What the fuck? 

Why was someone from the Pennsylvania Attorney General calling him? Buck’s immediate first thought was that something had happened to his parents - but no, Maddie was the executor of their will. Was it related to Maddie and Doug? Or was it just a spam call?

His phone rang again, the second time in nearly as many minutes. This time, Buck set his controller down to answer the phone, feeling weirdly nervous. “Hello?”

_“Hello, am I speaking with Evan Buckley?”_ The woman’s voice was smooth and professional, with a touch of careful warmth.

“This is he.” Hen frowned at him, pausing the game as the engines started to rev. He shrugged at her. “Who is this?”

_“Hi Mr. Buckley, this is Laurel Jennings, attorney at law at Tinshaw, Reynolds, and Jennings.”_

Jennings, why was that name familiar? Buck snapped his fingers in recognition. Laurel and Richard Jennings were their neighbors growing up - and Laurel was also their family lawyer. 

“Oh hello.” Buck got up from the couch, waving apologetically to Hen as he bounded down the steps and away from his team. He couldn’t help the nervous energy that prickled under his skin. “Is everything okay? I just got a voicemail from the Pennsylvania DA office - they didn’t say anything but I was about to call them back. Are my parents okay?”

_“Your parents are fine.”_ Laurel assured him quickly. It was weird, he could picture her clearly even though the last time he saw her had been over a decade ago. Her office had been brighter than he expected a lawyer’s office to be - in the movies they were always all intimidating dark wood and maroon leather. Hers was bright and airy and filled with some kind of peppermint air freshener that hadn’t put him at ease, but certainly helped.

Buck shook himself out of the memory and forced himself to focus. “Okay, that’s good, but why are you calling then?”

Laurel sighed and Buck braced himself. He suddenly had a horrible sinking feeling.

_“Evan, where are you right now?”_

The sinking feeling increased. “Um, I’m at work but I’m on a break - well, I’m on-call.”

_“Are you able to find someplace private? Somewhere you can sit down?”_

“Uh…. sure?” Buck peaked into the bunk room to find it empty. He closed the door behind him and sat on a bed. “Yeah, I’m alone."

_“Okay. I just got a call from the District Attorney’s Office - probably the same call they were trying to connect with you about. They wanted to inform you that Benjamin Ryder is scheduled to be released from Allenwood Penitentiary in thirty days.”_

It was a good thing he was sitting on the bed, because when Buck dropped his phone it landed on the soft mattress instead of clattering and breaking on the floor. 

It was also a good thing because all the muscles in Buck’s body stopped working and he was pretty sure _he_ would have fallen and broken on the floor. 

“… _Mr. Buckley? Evan?”_ Laurel’s tinny voice sounded a million miles away. _“Are you still there?”_

Eventually, Buck was able to get his hands to work enough to pick up the phone again, although he couldn’t really feel it through his fingertips. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m here. Sorry…”

_“No, it’s okay. I’m sure it’s a shock.”_

Shock? More like _fucking impossible -_ “I don’t - I don’t understand. Doesn’t he have like at least eight more years before he can appeal?” That had been the whole point. Laurel had pushed for the maximum sentence and she’d won and Buck had been able to pack it all into a box that he wouldn’t have to unpack for at least twenty years. “How is - what the fuck happened?”

He’d never spoken to Laurel without his parents present, so he’d definitely never sworn at her because that would have earned him a sharp inhale from his mom, her nails digging into his wrist a little too tightly. 

But Laurel took it in stride without faltering. _“He’s being let out on compassionate release. He has stage four melanoma.”_

Buck’s brain short-circuited. “He’s…?”

_“Yes, he’s dying.”_ Laurel didn’t beat around the bush, which Buck wasn’t sure he was grateful for. He wasn’t sure of anything he was feeling.

An entire ladder truck could have fallen on him and he wasn’t sure he’d notice. 

_“They didn’t give me a whole lot of details, but his prognosis isn’t…"_ She sighed. _"They made it sounds like he’s only got weeks. So I think he’ll be spending most of that time in the hospital.”_

_Most_ of the time. Where else would he go? Would he go back to stay with Aunt Jenny? Buck was pretty sure they were divorced, although he hadn’t seen or talked to his aunt in over a decade. 

The last time he’d even heard her voice had been when he’d eavesdropped on a phone call she’d had with his dad. 

When she’d called Buck a liar.

It didn’t matter, because Buck sure as fuck wasn’t going back to Pennsylvania. But he felt sick just thinking about it: everyone doting on _him_ , crying about him dying of cancer, how it was just so tragic that he’d spent the end of his life in prison because of a lie. 

“Okay, well thanks for telling me. I guess.” He didn't mean to be rude, but he just couldn't muster up enough energy for any kind of politeness. He couldn't muster up much of anything. “Is that it?”

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. _“Almost. His lawyer reached out to me as well. Do I have your permission to share their message?”_

There was a very large part of Buck that wanted to just say _fuck no_ and hang up the phone and be done with this. He wanted to end the call and walk out into the firehouse and up the stairs and finish his game with Hen and never think about this again. In a few weeks he'd be dead and Buck could just pretend that none of it every happened.

A few years ago, he definitely would’ve. He would’ve hung up, and bounced around the house until they got a call, then thrown himself into the first dangerous situation he found just to get his adrenaline going, and finished off the night by finding a random woman in a bar somewhere (or better yet, a random grateful woman from a call). 

But he wasn't that guy anymore, or at least he was trying not to be. He couldn't fall back on those coping mechanisms anymore, not when his team was counting on him to be on top of his game. And he knew that if he didn't say yes, he’d always wonder.

“Sure.” Buck finally agreed in a quiet voice.

Laurel cleared her throat. _“Mr. Ryder apparently has only one deathbed request - if you are willing, he’d like to see you.”_

Or maybe he should’ve just let sleeping dogs lie. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

_“I know.”_ Laurel’s professionalism slipped a bit. _“I’ll admit, I almost didn’t want pass the message along, but I didn’t want to take that choice away from you, if that’s what you wanted.”_

“Why would I want to see him?” Buck was finally starting to feel some emotion aside from numbness: anger. White, hot, blinding fury that threatened to shake out of him. “I don’t ever want to see him again - I’m glad he’s dying. I hope he dies in prison before they release him. Why would he - Did he really think I would fly all the way to Pennsylvania just so that he could give some sort of fake apology to make himself feel better before dying? Or does he think if he makes amends he won’t go to hell? No. Fuck that. No fucking way. I hope he dies and goes to hell. Maybe I’ll come back and piss on his grave in ten years.”

To Laurel’s credit, she took his tirade in stride. _“I understand completely. I’ll tell them no and ask them not to try to contact you through me again.”_

“Yeah, I - thanks. Sorry.” Buck calmed down from his anger-high enough to be chagrined that he was yelling at a woman he hadn't seen since he was sixteen. “I know it’s not your fault.”

_“You don’t need to apologize. There is no wrong way to process the news you just received.”_

A startling thought struck him. “Are you going to tell my parents?”

_“I’m not legally obligated to tell them, no.”_ Laurel said carefully. _“You’re not a minor anymore. I can tell them, if you want me to.”_

A very strong part of him just wanted them never to know. But even though the possibility of anything happening to them was slim, Buck knew that he’d feel guilty if Benji tried to contact them and they didn't have any warning from him, or even just if they found out that he was released from some other family member. 

Buck didn't want to be the one to tell them though. Didn't want to break their pathetic tradition of cursory holiday and birthday calls where they caught up on months of life during a twenty-minute call, in order to call them up and tell them that their brother-in-law that he put in prison was dying of cancer.

“Can you? But just give me a week or so before you do.” Because he needed to tell Maddie first, and he needed some time to himself before they knew and start bringing all of their opinions into the situation.

_“Why don’t you just give me a call when you’ve decided you want them to know?”_ Laurel suggested. _“Once you’ve had time to process_.”

Buck nearly snorted. _Process_. How the hell was supposed to process anything in a few weeks that he hadn't been able to process in the last sixteen years?

* * *

A s much as he didn’t want to be alone, Buck knew that he couldn’t responsibly stay on-duty after receiving that news. So he requested the rest of the day off from Bobby, with a promise that he’d explain later.

"I just - I _can't_ right now." He told Bobby desperately, the vice in his chest easing just a little when Bobby nodded in understanding.

Hen, Chimney, and Eddie were concerned when Buck tried to practically run out of the firehouse without saying goodbye, but they didn't push him beyond a few well-meaning check-in texts.

He’d never told any of them about _this_. It wasn’t exactly a natural thing to come up. It thankfully had never followed him in any kind of file; the record had been sealed since he was a minor at the time. Buck had never mentioned it in any department therapy session - partly because yeah, maybe he was a little nervous about someone thinking he wasn’t fit for duty because of it. 

Mostly because it had nothing to do with him.

The last two years of high school were a blur. He’d played sports. He went to class (well, he was physically present in class at least). He went to parties and hooked up with girls. He had friends that he did stupid shit with.

But Buck wasn’t really _there_.

He couldn’t tell you what grades he got. He didn’t know the names of the girls he slept with. He didn’t remember whether or not they won the homecoming game, or what he’d written on his college essay, or even the faces of his friends. 

He didn’t get into his first, or his second, or his tenth choice for college - Buck didn’t even bother applying, to his mother’s immense mortification. He managed to slip into the late application deadline for a small state school, which was “slightly better than community college” according to his father.

Not that it mattered, since he dropped out after a year. 

That had been the real breaking point for Buck’s relationship with his parents. The point where he successfully transitioned from “disappointment” to “failure.”

Coincidentally (or maybe not) it had also been the point in Buck’s life where everything turned around for the better. 

His roommate was driving back home to LA for the summer and Buck had always wanted to visit California. The plan had been to visit for two weeks and then fly home to Pennsylvania for the rest of the summer.

Except, as soon as Buck stepped out into the California sun, looked up at palm trees and the messy hodgepodge of strip-malls, art deco and rolling hills, he knew he was never going back. There was a freshness in the air (not literally: there was a lot of smog and garbage) that made Buck feel renewed just breathing it all in.

He crashed on his roommate’s couch for the summer, dodging his parent’s calls and saving up what money he could get working as a waiter. Between all the wannabe actors and models everywhere it was tough competition for work, but there were plenty of restaurants and people generally tipped well. 

After the summer was over, he found an apartment in Inglewood where he shared a room with two other guys for 500 bucks a month and just treaded water for a while. For the first time in his life he had little-to-no commitments. He could earn his rent plus groceries working nights shifts and spend his days at the beach, trying and failing to learn to surf, playing volleyball with his roommates, just doing things that made him happy. 

Then eventually he’d gotten bored, and decided he wanted to travel, saving up barely just enough money to book a flight to Rio de Janeiro. He spent the second summer after he dropped out of school tending bar at a surf beach, jokingly calling it his “semester abroad” to Maddie when she sparingly called. 

It was odd how being so far away from home had been where Buck really felt like he found himself. Before, “Buck” had just been a nickname that his friends in college had started jokingly calling him. His friends in California had used it a bit more. But in Brazil, he stopped going by Evan altogether and it felt almost like when he shed that name, he completely shed the person that he’d been in Pennsylvania.

So by the time “Buck” Buckley returned to Pennsylvania for Maddie’s wedding, he was no longer the Evan Buckley who’d left. That kid had been nothing more than a shell of false confidence that crumpled under the weight of his parent’s disappointment. 

“Buck” was someone who refused to let anything get to him. He was the life of the party, full of tall tales of heroic escapades from his various jobs and adventures, who barely needed to do more than wink at Doug’s cousin in order to get her to follow him into the wedding venue bathroom.

Thinking about that retrospectively made him feel guilty. Not because he thought Doug’s cousin wasn’t completely into the meaningless wedding hookup (oh, she _definitely_ was). But because Buck had been so distracted with proving that he was past his highschool angst, he hadn’t been paying nearly enough attention to Maddie and Doug. 

The only thing he had really noticed that night was the toast: how Maddie, overwhelmed with joy, had clinked glasses with Doug a little too enthusiastically, and the crystal glasses from Doug’s mom had chipped a bit. 

And how Doug’s face had, for a split second, turned into something ugly and twisted. 

It was so brief, Buck convinced himself he had imagined it. But in the following years, when Maddie’s calls would become increasingly infrequent, when she would ignore his Facetime calls and insist on audio only, when she stopped responding to his texts and even his Christmas cards, then he’d think about Doug’s face. 

That’s where Buck’s train of thought was when Maddie dropped by his apartment later that afternoon.

It wasn't unexpected. Chimney had seen Buck run out of the station, so of course he would let Maddie know. The main consequence of your co-worker dating your sister.

The secondary consequence of course was Maddie’s rounded belly that she supported carefully as she waddled into the loft, carrying a bag of takeout. Buck jumped up from the couch and took the bag from her, despite her huffing insistence that she was “pregnant, not immobilized.”

“Chim called you.” Buck didn’t ask as he dug into his chicken marsala. “I wish he hadn’t.”

Maddie hit him on the arm. “He shouldn’t have had to - why didn’t _you_ call me?” She was acting annoyed to cover up her concern. “Buck what’s going on? Chim said you said it was a family emergency? Is it Mom and Dad?”

Her relationship with their parents was just as strained as his was, if not more. Maddie had cut them off while she’d been with Doug. For all their flaws, they had been right in their worries about Maddie’s relationship with him - their Mom had fretted about his controlling nature and their Dad had been a little bit more succinct: _“He just seems like an asshole.”_

In a perfect world, once Maddie figured out that yes, Doug _was_ an asshole and was finally free of him, then they would have reconciled and come together as one happy family. 

But the world wasn’t perfect and neither were their parents. 

Buck knew that Maddie was trying to form a relationship with them again. He couldn’t blame her for taking it as slowly as she was though. She was still rebuilding a life for herself, post-Doug, with her job and Chimney and now the baby. He understood her reluctance to bring their parents into that life.

So yeah - it wouldn’t be unusual for Buck to know about something happening with their parents before Maddie did.

“No, they’re fine.” He assured her. For now. Buck actually didn’t know how they’d react when they found out. He didn’t want to think about it. “Everyone in the family is fine.” 

Not _technically_ a lie, because neither of them considered Benji family.

“Okay…” Maddie reached out and put her hand on top of his. “What is it then? Are _you_ okay?”

Buck breathed out a long sigh. “Not really.” He really should just rip the bandaid off. “Do you remember Laurel Jennings? Mom’s lawyer friend.”

“Of course.” Maddie looked surprised, and nervous.

"She called me today. Maddie… they’re letting him out of prison.”

Maddie didn’t react immediately. For a moment, Buck was worried that he wasn’t specific enough, or even worse that she’d somehow forgotten completely and had no idea what he could be talking about ( _they haven’t talked about it in over a decade)_. 

But then she was squeezing his wrist tightly and he would've been afraid of her cutting off his circulation, if she weren’t so tiny. “Evan, oh my god.” She breathed, her face white with fear.

Buck quickly realized she didn’t know the most important detail.

“He’s dying.” Buck blurted out. “They’re letting him out on ‘compassionate release.’” He used heavily sarcastic air quotes. “So that he can die in a regular hospital instead of a prison hospital, I guess.”

Maddie’s face went even whiter, if possible, and her other hand flew to her mouth as she started to cry. She’d always been a crier (they both were), and the pregnancy hormones had only exacerbated it.

“Sorry.” He muttered, cringing as he squeezed her hand. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I just didn’t know how else to tell you -”

“No, no.” Maddie immediately cut him off, squeezing his hand back. “It’s okay, don’t apologize. I just - what can I do? How are you feeling?”

Buck sighed, dropping his head. “Honestly? I have no idea Mads. I should be celebrating, right? Like, I should have gotten champagne and invited you over and we should be toasting because good fucking riddance. But I just don’t - I dunno. I don’t feel happy I just feel…”

“Empty?” She suggested, eyes glassy. “That’s how I felt. About Doug.”

“That’s not even - this doesn’t even compare to what you went through with Doug.” Buck protested. “What he did to you and how you fought back - you’re a survivor.”

“So are you.” Maddie insisted fiercely. “And it’s not the same, I know it’s not the same, but it isn’t any _less_ , Buck. You don’t need to diminish what you went through because what you think I went through was worse - which it _wasn’t_ , by the way.”

“I just…” Buck shook his head, looking away. “I’ve gotten really good at not thinking about it. Like I thought I got past it and moved on and didn’t have to deal with it anymore, but then Laurel called and suddenly I’m right back there again. And he’s… he’s _dying_. He’s got cancer and it’s what he deserves but it just doesn’t feel right for some reason.”

Maddie nodded. “But Buck did you really move past it?” She asked, so gently that Buck’s heart broke a little - god, he loved her so much. “Or did you just… move around it?”

She said that very deliberately, and Buck squinted his eyes. “Did you get that from Frank?” He asked her suspiciously.

She snorted in surprise. “How did you know?”

“I dunno, just sounded like a Frank thing to say.” Buck chuckled. It wasn’t that funny, but laughing felt good: a bit of relief from the heaviness that had been hanging over their conversation. 

“This is why it’s weird for all of us to go to the same therapist.” Maddie joked, relaxing a bit as the tension eased. “But yes, Frank told me that. Last year, about Doug. Before we went back to Big Bear so that I could get closure.”

Buck regarded her thoughtfully. “Did that help? You seemed… better after that. It seemed like it helped.”

She hesitated. “I mean, it wasn’t a magic cure-all, but it was something I needed to do. It sounds really messed up, but a part of me felt guilty for what I did to him. Even though it was in self-defense… I killed him. He was evil but… he was sick."

Maddie wrung her hands, the stress of talking about Doug clearly getting to her and Buck was about to tell her she didn't need to push herself for his sake, but she went on before he could speak up. 

"That doesn’t excuse what he did or the person he was, but he’ll never have a chance to heal or change or become a better person, because of me. And I was angry at myself, but mostly I was angry at him. For putting me in that position. For making me kill him. For _dying.”_

She’d never told him that before. There were a lot of things Buck wanted to say to that - that Maddie shouldn’t think twice about killing Doug, that he was never going to change, he would never have gotten better. 

That he deserved it. 

All of those things were true, but Maddie didn’t need to hear them.

She needed Buck to hear _her_.

“I feel…” Buck felt the words catch in his throat. “I feel _sorry_ for him?” 

As soon as he said it, he wanted to take it back. That couldn’t be true could it? He wanted Benji to rot in the ground, he wanted him to die and be forgotten. To never have existed in the first place.

But the thought of him wasting away in a hospital bed, alone and hated, dying and in pain after a decade of being trapped in a cage… it made something hurt inside Buck.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?”

Instantly, Maddie was cupping his face in her hands. “Nothing.” She insisted, eyes welling up with more tears. “There is nothing wrong with you. Buck, listen to me. You’re one of the best people I know. You’re so compassionate and empathetic, even with people who don’t deserve it. That’s just who you are. And there’s no rule about how you should be feeling right now. It’s -"

She paused, clearly searching for the words, but she didn't let go of his face.

"Frank told me that it’s called ‘complicated grief’ or an ‘ambiguous loss’." Maddie continued, thumbs stroking against his cheeks gently. "He told me that when Doug died I grieved for him. I didn’t want to believe him - but he was right. I didn’t want Doug to take any more from me than he already had. But letting myself grieve had nothing to do with Doug taking anything away. I was just allowing myself to feel, without filtering myself.”

Buck let out a shuddering breath, letting himself sink into her caress. “Maddie?” He asked her quietly, after a long moment.

“Hmm?”

“If you - if you had the opportunity to… to say goodbye to Doug. To talk to him and confront him, knowing he was about to die… would you do it?”

Maddie shuddered, her fingers pressing into his face. The unspoken implication in his question was clear. 

“I don’t know.” She admitted. “But even if I would… I can’t answer that for you, Buck. That’s something you have to answer for yourself.”

* * *

_“Hello, Laurel Jennings speaking.”_

“Hey Laurel. It’s Bu - it’s Evan Buckley. I just wanted to let you know, that if you could tell my parents about um, you know. About him getting released from prison, then that would be great.”

Fuck, he sounded like a stumbling idiot. Luckily Laurel took pity on him, and didn't insist on him spelling it out for her.

_“Of course, I can do that for you Mr. Buckley. Anything else?”_

“Actually yes… You know that - that other thing? I’ve changed my mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Vague implications of abuse of a minor by a family member (not the parents). Nothing specific yet, but it's heavily implied. Attempt by abuser to contact survivor.


	2. Ripping out the stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the bombing and his injury, Buck was alone and trapped and broken and useless and drunk and it was four in the morning and he was throwing the bottle of scotch Ali had bought him as a housewarming gift that they were supposed to break open the night he got crushed by a ladder truck and it shattered against the wall, the glass getting all over his couch and -
> 
> So yeah, he'd taken up Bobby's offer of free department-provided therapy that summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific TW at the end
> 
> We haven't really gotten much characterization of Frank (his major scene in the show was him asking questions that they could easily edit together for a montage - which was good writing, but not really a realistic therapy session), so his therapy style and personality is mostly based on the best therapists I've had in the past.

Bobby didn’t push for an explanation after Buck took his early day, just checked in with a quick “You good?” at the beginning of his next shift, accepting it at face-value when Buck replied that he was. They’d rebuilt the trust that was shattered with the lawsuit into something even more solid than it was before. 

When Buck first started at the 118, he wasn’t sure what to make of Captain “Call me Bobby” Nash. The guy put on such an easy-going front: he made family dinners, he joked around with them, he even agreed to go to a Springsteen concert with Buck in the first couple months of him working there (Buck had been genuinely surprised when Bobby took him up on the offer). At the same time, he was completely closed-off about his personal life. 

Buck had definitely been an idiot: he’d taken advantage of Bobby’s seemingly easy-going nature at first to see what boundaries he could push. 

And had been genuinely surprised when Bobby hadn’t just pushed back - he’d _fired_ him. 

That had been a wake-up call: not only for Buck to realize that his (self-diagnosed) sex addiction and general lack of control at work was jeopardizing the only thing that had ever made him feel worthwhile. But for him to see Bobby as a real authority figure: someone to look up to and respect.

At some point in the last couple years, that respect had morphed into something a little less than professional. They were friends, just like the rest of the team, but there was something about the way that Bobby treated him that just felt… parental. 

Yeah, Buck had leaned into that, because it felt nice to have someone care enough to set boundaries and push him and try to guide him. Someone who was _there._

After the ladder truck explosion, Bobby had been the person who was most there for him, even more than Maddie or Eddie. He’d helped Buck with his PT and put up with his moodiness and his whininess and… yeah, it got ugly there a couple times. 

But Bobby had stuck with all of it, his Midwestern steadfastness shining through. And the line had started to blur, because while Bobby would _always_ be his Captain, he hadn’t technically been his boss and it felt like something a father would do - or, the sort of thing Buck had always _wished_ his father would do. 

He hadn’t realized the unanticipated consequence of that until he’d been spilling his guts to his lawyer, venting his frustration about the whole situation. 

Buck had just been so _pissed_ at Bobby, betrayed that the person he’d trusted most through the whole injury nightmare was the one person who was keeping him from coming back to work. 

So he'd reacted out of anger and naturally enlisted the help of the shady ambulance-chaser that he'd told off for trying to sue the city only days earlier.

Chase had listened to all of it, with narrowed eyes. When Buck was done, he’d said, “You realize that you’re being biased against, right?”

Buck had blinked at that rapidly and said “But I’m a white guy.”

Chase had laughed, shaking his head. “That’s not what I mean - you’re being treated differently by your captain, for unprofessional reasons.”

“No, Bobby wouldn’t do that.” Buck may have been upset with Bobby, but he wasn’t going to let this sleazy lawyer slander him. “Yeah he sometimes gives me shit but he doesn’t like hate me or anything -”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that he’s allowing your personal relationship to affect his professional judgement. You were injured by a bomb that was intended _for him_. He feels responsible - and he lost his kids, right? He’s projecting that loss onto you. Treating you like he’s your father, instead of your boss. That’s a form of bias.”

Chase (thank God) never said it in those _exact_ words during the arbitration hearing, but it was implied to the point where Buck was sure Bobby had gotten the message.

In retrospect the lawsuit had been a clusterfuck of a bad idea and Buck knew that he was lucky the LAFD had decided to just let him back so they wouldn't have to deal with the headache. After talking it over later with Maddie's medical expertise (and cool head), Buck was no longer convinced that Chase's claim of unequal treatment would've held up in court. 

More importantly, it had ended before it could cause any worse damage to his relationships with his teammates - and with Bobby in particular.

Eventually the wounds from the lawsuit had healed and they’d both worked on correcting themselves. They'd both set some boundaries, even if they'd never discussed it explicitly. Neither of them wanted to lose the closeness they’d developed.

Buck just hoped that what he was about to tell Bobby wouldn’t change any of that.

He’d waited until the end of the shift to ask Bobby if they could talk in his office, which had Chimney - who was in earshot - raising his eyebrows in question. Cap's office was specifically reserved for serious issues.

Buck didn’t meet Chimney’s eyes.  Maddie had promised that she wouldn’t tell him anything, which Buck was sure just made Chimney more suspicious that something really worrying was going on.

Bobby had asked to take a shower first, so Buck waited around for him in the dusty, barely used captain's office. He fiddled with the zipper of his hoodie, too anxious to take his own shower even though he desperately needed one. By the time Bobby came to meet him, Buck had already worried his lip so much that it was almost bleeding.

“What’s going on?” Bobby asked, taking in his appearance and opting to sit in the chair next to him instead of putting the desk between them. 

Buck sighed, clasping his hands together purposefully - if he messed with his zipper any more it was going to break off. “I need to take a week off, in a couple weeks. I have to go home - to Pennsylvania. For a week. I think - at least a week.”

“Okay.” Bobby nodded. “Well, you know how to fill the paperwork out for that.” 

The question was implied in the statement. “I just… I figured I should let you know.”

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments. Buck wanted to talk to Bobby, he did. He just didn’t know where to start.

Luckily, Bobby helped him out. “Does this have anything to do with the family emergency the other day?”

Buck nodded. “Yeah. It’s… my mom’s sister’s ex-husband.” He _thought_ it was _ex_ -husband now, but he wasn’t sure. “He’s got stage four melanoma. They think he’s only got a few weeks left to live.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” There was an uncertain sympathy in Bobby’s voice that made Buck cringe. “Were you close?”

“He tried to kill me.” Buck blurted out quickly, because it physically hurt him to see Bobby feeling sorry for _him_.

That clearly was the last thing Bobby was expecting, because his mouth literally dropped open. A myriad of subtle emotions flashed across the stoic man’s face: shock, confusion, sadness. 

Then anger.

“He’s in prison.” The words were coming out, rapidly. “I just found out the other day that he’s sick, they’re going to release him so that he can die in the hospital. And he, uh. He asked to see me.”

Now the anger wasn’t anywhere close to subtle. “ _Buck_.” Bobby said carefully, trying to control his emotions. “You don’t owe him anything.”

“No, I know.” Buck assured him. “I just… I don’t know, this is going to sound stupid, but I feel like I need to go. For me. For,” he waved his hand in a vague motion. “Closure, or whatever.”

Bobby’s nostrils flared. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“No.” Buck admitted. “But Maddie’s going to come with me and if I get there and I decide I don’t want to then I just won’t see him. I won’t make myself do anything I’m not comfortable with. I just… I never got to confront him, you know? I haven’t seen him since that night. I didn’t go to court or anything, since I was a minor.”

Now Bobby looked like he wanted to hit something. “You were a _kid?”_

“I was fifteen.” Bobby actually looked like he was going to have a stroke. Buck had gone into this conversation uncertain of how much he was going to share and Buck already knew that he wasn’t going to be able to divulge the whole story.

Bobby had that same look in his eyes that he’d sported when they’d heard Athena being attacked over the radio... and Bobby had grabbed a fucking _axe_. Buck and Eddie had discussed it after and they both agreed: if Athena had been dead when they got there, Bobby would have hacked her attacker to pieces without a second thought.

For such a lighthearted guy, Bobby could be fucking _scary_ when he wanted to be.

Bobby ran a hand through his hair, breathing long slow breaths. “Buck, I trust you.” He said, almost like he was reminding himself of the fact. “If this is something you feel like you need to do, then you should do it. I just want to make sure you’re okay. And not downplaying anything because that is a big deal. What he did to you.”

The question was evident: _why haven’t I heard about this before?_

Buck slumped in his seat. “I know. I’m not downplaying anything. I just - I kind of just don't think about it? I know maybe that sounds bad but... I was such a different person back then, it’s almost like it happened to someone else.”

“But it didn’t.” Bobby said softly, his eyes wide and sad. “Buck listen... I’m not going to tell you how to deal with your feelings - as long as you _deal with them._ I haven’t seen it affect your work yet so I’m not ordering you - but I am strongly suggesting that you -”

“Schedule a session with Frank, yeah I’ve got one next Tuesday.”

A pleased smile flitted across Bobby’s face. “Good. Thank you.” He paused. “Do you want to talk about it? With me?”

Buck shook his head. “Not right now.” Probably not ever, but he wasn’t going to close that door all the way yet. Right now everything was still so raw. It was like he’d been rudely jolted awake from a pleasant but hazy dream where his uncle had never nearly strangled him to death.

And reality… yeah, reality sucked.

* * *

“So how has your personal life been going?” Frank asked, peering up from his notepad. “Anything new on the relationship front?”

Buck groaned letting his head flop back against the pillow. “Why do you always have to bring everything back to sex?” He joked.

Frank raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t say anything about sex. And if you recall, you were the one to bring it up first - when you joked about sleeping with your previous department-appointed therapist.”

Buck winced. That had not gone over well. 

After the bombing and his injury, Bobby had pushed for Buck to supplement his physical healing with some _mental_ healing as well. Buck had said no, he'd never found therapy helpful. Not as a kid, and definitely not the _last_ time Bobby had forced him to go. He would jump through the required hoops and psychological assessment that he needed ~~if~~ when he was allowed to return to work, and that was it.

But then, after a few weeks of uncertainty, Ali had officially broken up with him. And even though Buck had seen the writing on the wall as soon as the words _"I don't know yet"_ had left her mouth, it still had been a major kick while he was already down. 

He'd been hurt, and pissed off, and had so many jumbled emotions that he didn't know what to do with. He couldn't throw himself into work. He couldn't go to the gym. He couldn't go out drinking with his friends, or even go out drinking by himself, or find a random woman to hook up with and make himself forget how much his life sucked for just a few hours.

Buck was trapped, alone in the apartment that Ali had helped him sign a lease for, that he'd signed with the intention that she'd be _here_ with him whenever she was in LA. And that was the worst part of it - she'd spent so much of their relationship traveling and her big project for the summer was keeping her in LA for the next few months, so of course as soon as she was faced with the prospect of spending actual time with him instead of a few fun weekends, when their relationship had abruptly turned from fun and flirty to a serious commitment, when he was hurt and needed help, then _of course_ she bailed.

That wasn't fair to her. But he was alone and trapped and broken and useless and _drunk_ and it was four in the morning and he was throwing the bottle of scotch she'd bought him as a housewarming gift that they were supposed to break open the night he got crushed by a ladder truck and it shattered against the wall, the glass getting all over his couch and -

Buck had taken up Bobby's offer of free department-provided therapy that summer.

The department had thankfully recommended Frank instead of Dr. Wells again, which Buck was grateful for because he knew that going back to her would be a Bad Idea™ and was too embarrassed to explain why.

He'd really hit it off with Frank though, who was the right combination of pushiness and calm to deal with Buck's lack of attention span.

They'd maybe hit it off a little _too_ well, because by his third session he was comfortable enough with Frank to drop a stupid joke about accidentally sleeping with his previous therapist.

Frank had _not_ taken that lightly and Buck cursed himself for his stupidity. He didn't want to get Dr. Wells fired for unprofessionalism. Buck had tried to backtrack but apparently it wasn't just a matter of unprofessionalism: sex with a patient was illegal and Frank was legally obligated to report it.

Dr. Wells had been fired by the LAPD and her license had been suspended. The fire chief and Bobby had also been informed, to Buck's humiliation, although luckily Bobby hadn't really lectured him about it - they'd just had a _talk._

The only thing that made him feel marginally better about that situation was that apparently that wasn’t the first time she’d had an inappropriate interaction with a client, and she was already on probation at the time that Frank had reported her. 

And that's how Buck's post-bombing trauma sessions had somehow transitioned partly into _sex therapy_ , because Frank decided to take Buck’s jokes about his sex addiction seriously. 

Buck had never been particularly… enthused when Frank decided to bring his sex life up. Mostly because it had been non-existent when he’d been seeing Frank thanks to Ali breaking up with him - and Buck being too immobile and miserable to find anyone new. 

Of course, his leg had been healed for nearly a year and Buck still hadn’t slept with anyone since Ali, but hey. Frank didn’t need to know that.

Or so he'd thought.

“I just find it a little unusual, for a self-proclaimed sex addict, that you’ve been celibate for this long.” Frank mused. “But there’s nothing wrong with it, of course. I’m just curious how you feel about it.”

How did he _feel_ about it? Buck remembered when Abby told him she hadn’t had sex in a year. How shocking that had been to him, because he hadn’t gone a few months without having sex since he was in high school. And now it had been… yeah, fuck. Over a year. 

“I don’t know, I guess there was just a lot going on and it didn’t seem as important.” Buck mumbled, pulling on his sweatshirt sleeves. “And dating apps suck.”

“You never seemed to have a problem with it before,” pointed out Frank.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to do that anymore.” He protested. “I don’t want to be that guy.”

“Buck 1.0?”

Buck rolled his eyes. “Yeah. The random hook-ups, picking up girls at bars, on calls. That’s just not me anymore.”

Frank nodded. “Does it have to be 0 or 100? Or could there be a middle ground somewhere?”

“Yeah, it’s called being in a relationship. And I tried that. With Abby and then with Ali. Both of them worked out _really well_.”

“So you just stopped trying?”

This conversation was reminding him of one he had with Maddie not that long ago, and it was starting to irritate Buck. He’d finally seen Abby like a month ago, had saved her fiancee from a freaking collapsing train. 

They’d talked, he’d gotten to say his piece for the way that she’d ended things. Maybe in a perfect world he would've gotten a more satisfying apology from Abby, but he'd at least gotten closure. He was over it. 

He wasn’t _pining_.

“Look, this isn’t what I came here to talk about.” Buck liked Frank - they had a good rapport, he felt like he could trust the man (even though he was treating Buck’s sister and half of Buck’s coworkers). But sometimes he’d get fixated on something and it would annoy the fuck out of him - especially when he kept coming back to sex and relationships. 

Frank held up his hands, placid. “Alright. What’s the reason that you scheduled this appointment? Did something happen at work?”

“No, at home. _Pennsylvania_ -home.” 

“Ah.” Frank knew a little bit about his relationship - or lack thereof- with his parents. Probably more than Buck was aware because Maddie was more willing to talk about it than Buck was (again, one of the weird things of sharing a therapist with his sister). “What happened?”

There was no point beating around the bush. Not with Frank. “When I was fifteen, my uncle nearly killed me. And I reported him, and he went to prison.”

Frank was usually pretty good at hiding his surprise. But Buck could tell he’d thrown him for a loop. “You’ve never mentioned that before.”

“It hasn’t really needed to come up.” Buck shrugged defensively. “I compartmentalized it or whatever. But now he’s sick and they’re releasing him on ‘compassionate release’ so that he can die not in prison. _And_ he wants to see me before he dies.”

“Okay…” Frank scribbled a couple things on his notepad. “There’s a lot to unpack there.”

Buck couldn’t help but snort, even though it wasn’t really funny. “I guess so, huh?”

“So let’s start with your uncle.” Frank prodded. “Are you able to tell me a bit about him?”

“Do I have to?” 

“You don’t have to do anything.” Shrugged Frank. “We can just sit here for the rest of the session. This is your time, it’s not an evaluation. You can use it how you want.”

It was reverse-psychology. But fuck him if it didn’t work. “Fine. He was my mother’s sister’s husband. I think they’re divorced. But I’m not really sure, because my aunt stopped speaking to us after the whole thing.”

Frank nodded, writing as he went. “Did she blame your family for her husband’s arrest?”

“She thought I was a liar.” Buck stopped, swallowing thickly. “She, uh. She believed he attacked me because that was pretty obvious.”

“How so?”

“My parents were in Hawaii for their anniversary - it was a big one, I think it was their twenty-fifth or something. Maddie was long gone at that point. I tried to convince them that I could just watch myself for the week, but I didn’t have my license yet, and they didn’t - uh, they didn’t trust me."

He could remember arguing with his parents about it - one of his teammates could pick him from school and drive him home after football, he'd do all his homework, and just spend his down-time watching TV. But it had been barely a month since the homecoming debacle, when Buck had come home at four in the morning smelling like alcohol, still drunk, mistakenly thinking that he could sneak in and his parents wouldn't notice. That was when he'd discovered his dad's insomnia the hard way - instead of being fast asleep in bed on the other side of the house, he was working in his office when Buck stumbled past. 

Buck could count the amount of times his dad had ever screamed at him on one hand. That was one of them.

They'd been convinced that he would take their absence as an excuse to throw a rager and they'd come back to the house being trashed and _you're 15 it's too soon for you to be pulling this shit damnit Evan we raised you better than this._

"So they made me stay with _them_. And it was almost okay, I almost made it through. But then my aunt had a girl’s night or some shit. And I tried to make plans with one of my friend’s, just so I wouldn’t be in the house. But everyone was busy. So it was just me and him. And he attacked me.

"And I, uh, afterwards I stole his car and drove it - not sure where I thought I was going. But I was speeding like a maniac and got pulled over. Of course the cop saw that I looked like shit and immediately drove me to the hospital. So it was - no one really doubted that he was the one who attacked me, because I obviously didn’t do that to myself, but they were really confused about _why_.”

It was so quiet when Frank looked at him. He wasn't writing anything down anymore, just making calm eye-contact with Buck. 

“Why did he try to kill you?”

Buck shook his head. “I don’t think he was _trying,_ he just kind of lost control. He was drinking and he - I think he was scared. I’ve seen it since, on the job. Usually when people do something like that, it’s because they’re scared.”

“Why was he scared?”

Frank was getting so close to the point. Buck knew they were going to get there, knew that they were _supposed_ to. 

But he was scared too. 

“This isn’t - this isn’t going in some kind of file is it?” He croaked, hating how weak he sounded. “Like, this isn’t going to Bobby or some kind of higher up in the department?”

“No.” Frank assured him firmly. “Unless you confess to some kind of crime that I have to report, everything you say will remain in this room.”

“Okay.” Buck breathed out quickly and just blurted it out quickly, ripping off the bandaid. “He sexually assaulted me. A couple years before. And he was scared because I threatened to tell someone.” 

He _couldn’t_ look at Frank. He was so afraid of seeing the shock and disgust. 

Or worse, no surprise at all. 

Because wouldn’t this just prove that Frank was right? That it _did_ all come down to sex and relationships. That Buck was just fundamentally broken when it came to sex, and that was the source of all his problems.

Except, he’d worked so hard to make that _not_ the case. When his friends started having sex, Buck had made sure he was right there with them. And hadn’t even needed to be nervous about it, because he’d actually liked it and he wasn’t broken. 

He’d gotten good at it quickly, faster than most of his friends, and yeah okay maybe there were a couple gay panics thrown in there where he’d freaked out and thought that maybe he was screwed up after all. But then along came college and the revelation that _oh sexuality is actually a spectrum and there’s more than just gay or straight so maybe I’m just bicurious and me getting occasionally turned on by other dudes is totally cool and doesn't have to mean that I'm traumatized._

And yes, maybe he’d gone overboard and overcompensated a little and started having sex with every woman who looked his way, but he’d corrected that and now he was… celibate. For a year.

Frank didn’t say anything, letting Buck work through his internal panic on his own. When Buck finally looked at him, his face didn’t give anything away.

“Why were you scared of telling me that?”

“I, uh…” Buck chewed on his lip. “I don’t want you to think that’s like the _thing_. The thing that makes me screwed up. Because I really haven’t dwelled on it at all, it doesn’t affect my work or my daily life. I got over it.”

Frank nodded. “Have you ever seen someone for this before?”

Buck scoffed. “My parents - I had to tell them after he nearly _strangled me_. They had me see someone. But it didn’t really help and eventually I just stopped going and parents didn’t really think I needed it anyway so they didn’t make me go back. And I just figured out how to compartmentalize it and move on.”

“Maybe.” Frank didn’t sound convinced. “There is a difference between compartmentalization and repression _._ When we compartmentalize, we temporarily pack away those feelings into a box because the present time isn’t the right time to deal with it.”

“I _know_.” Buck replied sourly. “C'mon man - I’m a first responder, I do that every day.”

“Right. But what do you do at the end of the day? When you’re back at the firehouse with your team, or at the bar with your friends, or having dinner with your sister? Or you’re here talking to me?”

The answer was obvious. “I unpack the box.”

“Exactly. You unpack the box and address those feelings. Because if you don’t, then you’re not actually healing or moving forward. A part of you is still stuck. And that’s not compartmentalization. That’s repression.”

Buck huffed, folding his arms. But he couldn’t refute what Frank was saying. A part of him knew that it was true, had always known that he’d never really ‘gotten over’ what had happened to him. It was just that the longer he went without properly dealing with it, the more he thought maybe he wouldn’t have to. He was twenty-nine for fuck’s sake. 

“It seems like we’re hitting a bit of a wall here.” Frank observed, always astute. “That’s okay, we don’t have to keep talking about this. Do you mind if we talk about your parents for a minute?”

Buck nearly threw up his hands. “Great, my _favorite_ topic.” He grumped, but nodded. “Sure, that’s better than this.”

“I just want to circle back to something that you said earlier.” Frank flipped to another page on his notepad. “You said that they ‘didn’t really think you needed therapy’ after your attack. I find that… a bit surprising.”

“What part?” He asked dryly. “You already know they weren’t very touchy-feely. They had Maddie giving me baths when she was _eleven_.”

“I know that they were emotionally distant. Even so, I’m surprised that they wouldn’t understand the importance of processing a traumatic event like that through therapy - traumatic _events,_ from what you’ve told me.” 

“They did, they just…” Buck started fiddling with his sweatshirt again. “This is going to sound bad, but I’m not sure they ever fully believed me either.”

“What makes you think that?”

“They were - I mean, they were _pissed._ The hospital called them and they booked a really expensive flight from Maui that night - two days before they were supposed to come home. My dad took one look at me and turned around to storm out. The cops had to stop him because I’m pretty sure he was going to find him and _kill him_. But later when I told them what had happened when I was thirteen... they were so confused. I think at first they were scared and upset and just took my word for it because _I_ was scared and upset. 

“But then once we started pressing charges and they started taking my statement a couple times, I got jumbled up a bit and I mixed up a couple things. And once it started getting further in they kept pulling me aside to ask if I was sure that I knew what I was doing. That this was going to _ruin his life_. And our lawyer was really good and it didn’t matter that I’d messed up a couple details - she attributed that to trauma or whatever. But I think they always doubted that I was telling them the whole truth.”

Frank waited a few moments to make sure he was done. “Have they ever told you that they didn’t believe you? Or could you be projecting your own insecurities onto their feelings?”

Buck inhaled shakily. “There was… there was a phone call. My aunt Jenny - his wife. She called my dad. He locked himself in his office but I could still hear her screaming on the other end of the line. We still had a landline, so I just went into another room, y’know, waited until the screaming was really loud, did the thing with the hang-up button and picked it up. 

"And it was - god, it was bad. She called me a liar - _his_ defense was that he’d gotten drunk and had a blackout and had no idea what he was doing. Which wasn’t great, but it was better than 20 years in prison. And my dad didn’t… he didn’t defend me. He just let her scream at him and told her that it needed to go to trial so that the ‘truth could come out’.”

“What did you want him to say?”

“That he believed me!” God, he was crying. He would be embarrassed, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t cried in front of Frank before - it was honestly a surprise that this hadn’t happened sooner in this session. “He should’ve - he should’ve _screamed_ back at her, told her to shut up. Defended me. But he didn’t do that. And they never - not once did they ever say that they believed me. Not even in private. It’s like they were more afraid of being wrong than they were about me feeling like I could trust them.”

“But they went through with the trial.” Frank was coming dangerously close to playing Devil’s Advocate. “They paid for your lawyer.”

“I really think they thought it would ‘sort itself out’.” Buck insisted. “That the jury would be able to see that I was making _that_ part up. They didn’t want to drop the charges because he _had_ attacked me, and they didn’t want him to get away with it. But toward the end of it, I honestly felt like they felt worse for him than they did for me.”

Frank wrote a couple more things down. “What about Maddie? Was she there for any of this?”

The tightness in his chest eased a bit, and Buck wondered if Frank knew that it would - and if Franke could tell that he was on the verge of shutting down and turning into a completely uncooperative mess. “Maddie was great. She _did_ scream at my aunt actually - when she came by to try to talk me down, even though there was a no-contact order. Maddie threatened to call the cops. She even yelled at our parents a couple times. She was completely in my corner.”

“That’s good to hear. I know you’ve mentioned that you two were a bit distant once she went off to college.”

“And met Doug. Yeah. She was - when she found out what happened she actually came back and stayed with us for awhile. At first she took some time off, then she was commuting to work. But that was like four hours of driving everyday which was crazy so I convinced her to stop and she started just spending her days off with me instead. I think this was before things got bad with Doug though. After awhile I think he got a little sick of having to share her time and attention, and I was doing better, so she left again.”

“But she was there when you needed her?”

“Yes.” It was one of the reasons that he’d kept trying to call her and message her and sent those silly Christmas cards, even though she didn’t respond to him for three years. A part of him would always feel guilty for not just jumping in his car and driving to Hershey and punching Doug’s face in. He _knew_ that something wasn’t right. He knew that Maddie wouldn’t just abandon him

Frank glanced up over Buck’s shoulder, and Buck swiveled around to follow his gaze to the clock - shit. A full hour had gone by.

Buck turned back to look at Frank. 

“I know you probably feel like hell, but I think we made some really good progress.” Frank said quietly. “We covered a lot of ground. If you’re okay with it, I’d like for you to book another session sometime in the next couple weeks.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” He was so freaking _tired_ , but now that he’d started talking about it, Buck felt like he had so much more to say still. “Could we do next week actually? I’m going to be out of town after that.”

“I’m a bit booked up next week,” Frank mused, perusing his schedule. “Where are you going?”

“Pennsylvania.”

Frank looked up. “You _are_ going to see him?”

Buck shrugged. “Haven’t decided yet.”

Frank looked back down at the schedule. “I’ll work you in.” He muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter is less vague than the previous ones, although nothing happens in real time.  
> The following are discussed or referenced  
> Past abuse of a minor  
> Past sexual assault of a minor  
> Past strangulation of a minor  
> Past sexual exploitation of an adult (the whole Dr. Wells mess is mentioned. Just my take on how that probably went down).
> 
> There is also mentions of past internalized homophobia - bear in mind that this is a character going through a process, and not how the writer believes that sexuality works. It's also reflective of the fact that at the time Buck was in high school and entering college, bisexuality was just not as culturally accepted and understood as well as it is now. 
> 
> 8/31: I was re-reading this as I'm working on the ending for Burned on the Pyre. I've been making some minor little wording and formatting modifications for things that bothered me, but I wanted to note that I made significant-ish changes to the section where I talk about the lawsuit, because I wasn't satisfied with that part. It felt too much like Buck still thought he was in the right for the lawsuit and... no. I don't believe the character thinks that. I think he thought he was right at the time, but he (rightfully) regrets acting so rashly out of anger.
> 
> (I think we can all agree in general though that the lawsuit was not a high point for the show).


	3. A wrinkle in the plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Laurel Jennings called. Evan, she had some… news.”
> 
> “Yeah, I know. She called me too.”
> 
> “She did? How long ago?” 
> 
> “Uh… last week?”
> 
> There was a long pause. “EVAN.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorted chapter, but I wanted the next two sections to go together and if I had put them in this one it would've been way too long.
> 
> TW at the end notes.

They always kept their phones on _do not disturb_ during calls, for obvious reasons. Even the simple buzzing of a text could break someone’s focus, startle a victim and throw the whole scene into chaos. 

(And yes... Bobby _might_ have started enforcing that rule after Buck may or may not have accepted one too many calls from a certain dispatcher.)

Today had been a series of back-to-back-to- _back_ calls. Mostly low-stakes but tedious accident cleanup. A fire hydrant malfunctioned and flooded a yoga studio. Someone reported a gas leak in an apartment building and they cleared the whole building out before they realized it was just one of the neighbors making kimchi.

The last one (an automatic-shopping-cart-return-vehicle at Target that went rogue and made a break for freedom across Santa Monica Boulevard, resulting in a multi-car pileup) was more intensive and exhausting. Luckily all the injuries were minor, but coordinating the cleanup took time, and they had to do it while some jackass was screaming about how he was going to sue Target for the full cost of his Tesla because it had one single scratch on it.

By the time they got back to the house, Buck just wanted to sprawl out on the sofa and sink into comfortable nothingness. 

He'd only done that for about five seconds before he was rudely interrupted by someone nudging insistently on his side.

“Make room, you lanky asshole.” Eddie.

Buck smirked and threw his arm out in an even wider arc, without opening his eyes “Nope. I’ve claimed this couch as my own. You’ll have to fight me for it.”

“Okay.” Buck blinked and suddenly he was on the floor. Eddie was sitting on the couch and was he? - _he was cleaning his fingernails_.

“Now who’s the asshole?” Buck grumbled, but he was grinning as he hopped back on the couch, taking up only a respectable amount of space this time. Hey, he _could_ share.

They were both leaning against opposite couch arms, facing each other with their legs stretched out next to each other (Buck was _tall_ okay, and Eddie was not exactly short either). Their legs occasionally bumped up against each other in a way that was comfortable and familiar, as Eddie scrolled through his phone and Buck just leaned his head against the back of the couch, too tired to move.

He was jolted back into consciousness when Eddie snorted, covering his mouth in what was probably a thoughtful attempt to not wake Buck up. It was too late though, and Buck's curiosity was piqued.

“What so funny?”

“Just this meme Chris sent me.”

Buck perked up. “Ooh, send it to me.”

“Okay.”

Buck’s phone didn't vibrate. Oh right, it was still on _do not disturb_. He turned that off, unlocked his phone and

_Thirty-seven missed calls from Mom._

And even more shockingly:

_One missed call from Dad._

“Shit.” The phone started ringing in his hand and Buck cringed. He swung his legs off the couch, nearly kicking Eddie in the face in his haste.

“Where’s the fire?”

It was a stupid joke they used way too often and normally it got Buck cracking up every time. But he didn't even acknowledge it as he answered the phone, his heart in his ears. “Hello?”

_“Evan, where the_ hell _have you been?”_

Buck winced, wedging the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he could hold up two hands to Eddie ( _be back in ten minutes_ ). “Hang on, I’m at work, give me a moment to step outside.”

_“I’ve been trying to call you for_ ten hours! _”_

“Yeah, I work long shifts. Gimme a minute.” Buck retorted as he raced down the steps. This time he didn't go for the bunk room, because he knew Hen was conked out, exhausted from splitting her time between her paramedic duties and the certification course she was taking to boost her applications for medical schools. 

Instead he completely left the building, and crossed the street for good measure.

This was not a conversation he wanted anyone to overhear.

“Alright, I’m outside. Continue.”

_“You seriously expect me to believe that you couldn’t answer your phone for ten hours? What if there was an emergency! What if something had happened to Maddie - aren’t you one of her emergency contacts?”_

Buck couldn't believe he’s hearing this. “If there was an emergency, they would contact me over dispatch - that’s sort of the perk of being a first responder. But since I’m dealing with _actual_ emergencies all day, I can’t be distracted.”

And thank god he’d been too preoccupied to check his phone when they’d been driving between calls, because if he’d seen all those missed calls there would be no way he’d be able to focus.

His mom heaved out a long-suffering sigh. Buck reminded himself that she wasn't trying to be unreasonable, she just really did not understand what his job entailed - or how seriously he took it. _“Laurel Jennings called.”_ She sounded a bit softer now. _“Evan, she had some… news.”_

“Yeah, I know. She called me too.”

_“She did? How long ago?”_ The sharpness was back.

“Uh… last week?”

There was a long pause. 

_“EVAN.”_

Buck winced. Yeah, this was the reaction he’d been dreading. “Sorry, she said she would tell you. I just… sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Another sigh. _“I wish you had told us, but it’s fine.”_ The wind sounded like it had been taken out of her sails. _“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled, but you weren’t answering your phone and I just got worked up. You know that I worry.”_

There was that familiar stab of guilt. “I know.” She _did,_ in her own way. “Do you know if - is just going to the hospital or is Aunt Jenny going to look after him?”

_“No, I don’t think so. They’re divorced - I don't think she's talked to him in years.”_

Well, that question was answered. Part of Buck was curious - did that mean that she’d come around to believing him? Or did the strain of prison just break them apart and she still thought Buck was a liar?

“Okay.” Buck just waited, wiggling from foot to foot. For all the build up and anticipation of this call, it was mostly dead silence and awkwardness.

His mom cleared her throat. _“So Evan, I’ve been thinking… with the baby coming and Maddie’s engagement-”_

“Maddie’s not engaged.”

In the background of the call, he heard a firm “ _Yet_.” So his dad _was_ there _._

_“Well, with the baby coming anyway, and both of you settled in Los Angeles now with your jobs, I was thinking that your father and I should come visit. Meet Howie and all your friends.”_

“Oh.” Buck was honestly thrown for a loop. Maddie had shared her suspicions that they would probably want to come visit once the baby was born, but he didn’t think they would be here so _soon_. “Uh, yeah. When did you guys want to come?”

_“We were thinking sometime in the next couple weeks.”_

“ _Oh_.” Shit that _was_ soon. Too soon. Crap, that meant that he had to tell them, didn’t it? “Well, actually Mom, Maddie and I were planning on visiting Pennsylvania in the next couple weeks. The week after next.”

_“What?”_ He didn’t blame her for sounding shocked. _“Were you planning on telling us?”_

“We were going to surprise you.” Buck lied - they had honestly been considering just not telling them.

_“That’s very sweet, but what if we had plans?”_ His mom sounded a bit put out. _“Is Howie coming?”_

“No.” Buck said firmly. There was no way that Chimney was coming along on this trip back to the Ghost of High School Hell’s Past. “No, he’s got plans.”

_“What plans?”_

“Um… cleaning his fridge.” He almost smacked himself. Why did his excuses always suck? “Well, fixing his fridge. His whole apartment really - he’s got to baby-proof the apartment because it’s basically a death trap right now. But, uh, don’t tell Maddie - it’s a surprise.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. _“You kids and your surprises. Well, I guess we’ll see you in about a week then?”_

“Uh, yup, sure.” The line went dead and Buck was left staring at his phone.

Maddie was going to _kill_ him.

* * *

“I can’t believe them.” Maddie groaned, smacking her head softly against the table. “God, how are we going to survive a whole week with them?”

“I honestly don’t know, but thank you in advance.” Buck made himself at home and Maddie and Chimney’s kitchen table, sitting backwards on the chair.

Chimney gently put a hand between Maddie’s forehead and the table. “Now I’m not a _medical expert_ or anything, but that can’t be good for the baby.” He joked, earning a groan from both Buckleys.

“Don’t quit your day job Chim.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Now, I’m pretty _confused_ \- I thought this whole secretive Pennsylvania trip was to see family, so why weren’t your parents supposed to know about it?”

“Because we weren’t going to see them. It was for something else.” Maddie evaded.

“Can I ask what?”

“Nope.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek, giving Buck a wink and he felt pathetically grateful to her.

“This is killing me.” Chimney muttered. “And now you’re dragging me into your _lies_ ,” He pointed a spatula accusingly at Buck. “You told your mom that I needed to baby-proof the apartment? My apartment isn’t a death-trap!”

Maddie and Buck eyed each other from across the table.

“Well…”

“Well, what?”

“Some of the furniture is a _bit_ unstable.” Maddie began, wiggling the kitchen table for good measure. “I’d been meaning to bring that up to you, but I was going to wait until the third trimester.”

“And you need to get some electrical outlet covers.” Jumped in Buck. “And you’ve got like, way too many plants dude.”

“What’s wrong with plants!”

“Babies eat _everything_.”

“Buck would know, when he was three we had to take him to the ER because he ate our Philodendron plant.”

Chimney shook his head. “You know there’s something a little comforting knowing that even as a toddler you were still having near-death experiences. It makes me feel like the universe has balance - life is a circle -”

“Oh like _you're_ one to talk. And it wasn’t a near-death experience.” Buck protested. 

“Yeah, it was mostly just intense diarrhea.”

_ “Maddie!” _

“I was the one holding you when it happened - I’m allowed to tell this story!”

Chimney sat down next to her and settled his face into his hands. “I’m all ears.”

Maddie laughed as Buck groaned. “Well, I’d just gotten back from…”

Buck and Chimney waited for her continue. But she didn’t say anything, her face turning an alarming shade of red.

“Maddie?”

“I can’t…” She stuttered out. “I can’t see.”

Maddie’s loss of vision only lasted about thirty seconds, but it was long enough for Buck and Chimney to overrule her protests and drag her to the hospital.

It was a good thing they did: her blood pressure was sky-high - a risk commonly associated with geriatric pregnancies.

“Ugh.” Maddie groaned as the doctor explained her condition. “I hate that word. It makes me feel like a grandma.”

“That’s impossible, you haven’t even had your first kid yet.” Buck pointed out helpfully, and she gave him the finger while Chimney squeezed her shoulder in support, ducking his head into a smile.

“I know that you said your job requires you to sit at a desk for long periods of the day, but I really encourage you to take frequent walking breaks.” The doctor suggested. “I’m also going to prescribe you a light dose of labetalol. You’ll need to be careful - it’s rare for hypertension to develop in the second trimester like this, and we don’t want it to develop into-”

“Preeclampsia, I know.” Maddie hesitated. “What about flying?”

The doctor smiled at her. “You’re a medical professional?”

“I was a nurse, now I’m a 9-1-1 dispatcher.”

“I could tell, you know your stuff. Yes, normally at this stage of the pregnancy flying would be perfectly fine, but with your high blood pressure I would avoid that at all costs.”

Maddie locked eyes with Buck.

“Well, shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: A lighter chapter than the previous two. Same general fic warnings but nothing specific is mentioned.
> 
> Also! Buddie! Finally!


	4. I've got your back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think maybe you should trust your initial instincts on this one, instead of overthinking it.” 
> 
> “I thought not enough thinking was my problem, not overthinking?”
> 
> “They’re not mutually exclusive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's shorter too, but it's also beefy.
> 
> TW at end notes. This one is heavy, please be mindful.

It really felt like the universe was trying to tell Buck not to go.

Unfortunately, the more signs the universe threw at him, the more determined Buck became to go.

“Do you think that’s your answer?” Frank suggested. “Or are you seeing these occurrences as signs from the universe when really they’re just coincidences?”

“What started as Maddie and I sneaking into Pennsylvania and sneaking back out has turned into me staying with my parents for a week without my sister as backup.” Buck replied. “Doc, believe me when I say I should be looking for an out. But instead I’m actually packing. And it’s a whole _four days_ before my flight!”

“I always pack a week in advance, so I don’t have to stress about it.”

“Well now that’s just weird.”

“Perhaps. Have you told your parents about your plans to see your uncle?”

“ _No._ And hopefully I won’t have to. Although without Maddie coming the trip is going to feel sort of pointless to them. Now I sort of wish Chimney could come, to at least distract them. But obviously he should stay here with Maddie to keep an eye on her.”

“That does bring up one concern I have about this trip now.”

“Oh, just one?”

Frank gave him a wry look. “You were originally going to bring Maddie for emotional support. Now that she’s not able to go… I am concerned that your parents will not be an adequate support system for you. If you do go see your uncle… you don’t know what could happen. It’s possible that you could have an intense emotional reaction. I understand your need for closure, but unless you have someone you can trust with you, I’m not sure that it’s a good idea.”

Buck sighed. “Yeah, I know. But the only one who knows about this is Bobby, and he only knows part of it anyway. And…” He thought about Bobby and the axe. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“That’s understandable - he is your boss and I know that might feel like too big a line to cross. But maybe there’s someone else who could have your back?”

_Eddie_. The thought flashed in his mind and Buck quickly shoved it away. Fuck no. That would be almost as stupid than Bobby. He knew how protective his best friend could be. Especially when children were involved, even if Buck was now an adult.  Plus, that would mean that Buck would have to _tell him_ and -

“It looks like your brain is going a mile a minute, do you care to share?” Frank interrupted.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s always talking about ‘mindfulness’.” Buck protested. “But fine. I did have someone in mind, but it’s a bad idea. Because he doesn’t even know, and that would be one more person I would have to tell. And he's also got a protective streak that's like a mile wide. Oh and _also,_ he’s got a kid so he can’t just drop everything to fly across the country for a week.”

He saw a small smile flit across Frank’s lips and realized that he’d basically narrowed his circle of friends down to one person.

“Alright, fine, yes it’s Eddie. But I’m not going to ask him, for all the reasons I just listed.”

“I think maybe you should trust your initial instincts on this one, instead of overthinking it.” Frank said diplomatically.

“I thought not enough thinking was my problem, not overthinking?”

“They’re not mutually exclusive.”

Buck kicked his heels into the carpet. “I _can’t_ ask him. It would be too much.”

“Let’s ignore that for right now. It’s perfectly natural for you to want him to come. As partners, you two have built up a lot of trust over the last couple years, working alongside each other in dangerous situations. You also mentioned him frequently last summer when you were recovering from your injury - he was a critical part of your support system. If then, why not now?”

“Because it would be too much,” Buck repeated, quieter. “Eddie’s just… he’s put up with a lot of my shit, okay? He helped me with my leg, and then there was the whole tsunami fiasco, and then the lawsuit and I just… this would be too much.”

“Isn’t that up to him?” Frank questioned infuriatingly. When Buck didn't answer, he pressed: “Even if you don’t want to ask him for the favor, I do think it’s telling that you want to reach out to him for support. Maybe just start with… telling him what’s going on?”

Buck’s face twisted into a grimace. “Do I have to?” He muttered.

“No, of course not. I’m just here to make suggestions, and try to help you figure out what you want.”

“Well, when you figure it out, can you let me know?”

* * *

He had plans with Eddie that night, because _of course_.

Okay, well it wasn't really a coincidence. Last summer he’d gotten into a bit of pattern: his sessions with Frank would always be early in the afternoon on a Tuesday. The first few weeks had been rough, because Buck’s headspace was so negative that he’d leave therapy feeling like his _soul_ had been crushed by the ladder truck instead of his leg. Then he’d go home to his empty apartment and just stare off blankly into space for hours.

He’d finally mentioned it to Frank, who had come up with the suggestion that Buck should give himself a couple hours to wallow (Frank’s word had been “process”, but it meant the same thing), then have something scheduled that would force him to get out of the house - something to look forward to.

And thus had begun the summer movie nights at the Diaz household.

They had dropped off during the school year, because obviously Christopher couldn’t do weekday movie nights. But it was summer again and last week when Buck had scheduled his first session with Frank, he’d found himself texting Eddie asking if they could start back up again.  And this week he’d asked if they could move it to Thursday, and if Eddie had any idea that they coincided with his sessions with Frank, then he was at least nice enough not to say anything.

Usually the movie nights were a good distraction from whatever issues Frank had managed to weasel out of him. They gave him a chance to reset, and the next morning his head was always clearer.

Unfortunately, tonight _Eddie_ was the issue.

So Buck attempted to distract himself by throwing an extra heaping of attention at Christopher. They stage-whispered in each other’s ears through the movie, coming up with ridiculous theories about where the plot was going next, each one more outrageous than the next. Eddie normally fucking _hated_ when anyone talked during a movie (Buck still had a bruise on his shin from when they went to see _The Invisible Man)._ But either he didn't care about his viewing experience of _The Croods_ being ruined, or he was enjoying their plot more than the movie.

If his various ill-disguised snorts through their predictions were anything to go by, Buck assumed it was the later.

Then the movie was over and Eddie directed Christopher to go to bed while they cleaned up the kitchen (and then once he fell asleep they would drink beer and play video games with the volume turned down). To Buck’s surprise, Chris actually took himself to bed, no demand for a bedtime story or for Eddie to tuck him in.

“He puts himself to bed now? Since when?”

Eddie shrugged. “The sleep away camp. He’s a big kid now.”

“God.” Buck should really shut up, because he’s sure that Christopher’s _father_ was more sad about Christopher growing up than he is. But he was so startled, he couldn't help himself. “What happens when he stops thinking I’m cool?”

“You mean when he starts seeing you for the loser that you really are?”

“Hey now.”

Eddie laughed and shoulder-checked him lightly on his way to the dishwasher. “You know I’m kidding. Besides, ‘Uncle Chim’ will probably be the first to lose his cool-factor - after me, of course.”

“Nah, you’ve got that silver star going for you. I think that will cancel out your totally embarrassing overprotective Dad vibes. And at least put you on foot with ‘Uncle Chim’.” Buck paused, considering the phrasing. “Hey, how come Chimney is ‘Uncle Chim’ but I’m not ‘Uncle Buck’?”

Eddie glanced over his shoulder with a shrug. “Because Chimney said he wanted to be called that. Why, do you want to be called Uncle Buck?”

Buck instantly shook his head. “No. It sounds weird.”

“Well, you’re going to be an actual Uncle soon so you better get used to it.”

“But that’s different, because I’ll actually be related to the kid. It’s less… creepy.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up and he laughed in surprise. “Creepy?”

“Yeah, I dunno. If Christopher wanted to call me Uncle Buck _on his own_ that would be fine, but it feels weird to like force a familiarial relationship on the kid.”

“I believe the word you’re looking for there is familial. Oh and also, you’re overthinking it.”

“So I’ve been told.” Buck muttered. “You know, maybe it’s because I didn’t have any blood uncles or anything. Just uncles by marriage, on both sides.” Maybe he could just… start wading into this conversation and it could be like it came up naturally.

Yeah, because this was a very natural conversation to have with your best friend.

“I had both, but honestly it was hard to tell who was blood and who was married sometimes. Everyone just sort of blended together in one overbearing mess. No boundaries.” Eddie reached a hand back and Buck blinked, realizing that he’d just been standing there holding a plate this entire time. Not helping at all.

“Oh sorry.” He handed Eddie the plate, thinking about Eddie’s large, loving, and yes boundaryless family. As much as Buck knew it could be annoying... God he wished he had that growing up.

Eddie finished with the dishes and gave him an appraising look. “You good?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just kind of in my head tonight.”

“Don’t worry bout it.” Eddie waved him off, pulling out two beers out of the fridge, and sliding him one. “You thinking about your family?”

Oh, fuck it.

“Thinking about… my Uncle Benji.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Yeah, I don’t really talk about him.” Buck took a long swig of his beer and eyed Eddie out the corner of his eye. If Eddie had noticed the tension in the room going up 1000 notches, he wasn’t showing it. “He was my mom’s sister’s husband.”

“Was?”

“They got divorced. But he was always the fun one. He was always playing games with the kids, teaching us new swear words, sneaking us candy behind our parents' backs.”

As he said it, Buck’s throat nearly closed up because _god_ that sounded familiar. He tempted fate by not continuing to talk, leaving space for Eddie to leave some comment that would completely wreck him.

_"Sounds familiar”_

or _“I know someone like that.”_

But Eddie didn't say anything, just casually kept drinking his beer. He must have sensed that Buck wasn't done.

“He was my favorite. We’d always do outings and stuff together. Our families lived super close, so my parents would always drop me off at their house when they were too busy, especially after Maddie went off to college. One time when I was thirteen they left me there for a whole weekend with just me and ‘Uncle Benji’ - I can’t remember why.”

Eddie was still drinking his beer, but his grip on it was tense. 

"I just remember them driving off in the car together. I remember - I remember I was wearing a blue shirt. It was my one of my favorite shirts, I remember my mom saying it brought out my eyes. She was so mad at me - I lied and told her I lost it but she found it in the trash and I couldn't - I didn't know how to tell her why I threw it away. I didn't know how to explain it. I barely understood it."

Buck stopped talking, his voice starting to choke up. Eddie was no longer drinking his beer, and his knuckles were white.

“Do I have to say it?”

Eddie set his drink down. “No.” He exhaled loudly. _“Jesus,_ Buck.”

“I didn’t - I don’t really know anymore why I didn’t just tell my parents. Or Maddie. Maybe - I think I was going to tell her but she was so busy with school and her friends and _Doug_ and I just got it into my head that she didn’t care about me anymore.”

“Did you eventually tell someone?” Now Eddie’s deceptively calm voice was starting to crack, showing the anger underneath.

“Yeah, a few years later. I uh - I did a pretty good job of just avoiding him. For the most part." Family holidays were unavoidable, especially since his mom always hated when he tried to hide in the kitchen while she was cooking for people. 

_"_ _Go give your uncle some attention, he's going to think we don't love him anymore,"_ she'd say with a laugh and a tight smile that belied her stress levels. 

He cleared his throat, shaking the memory away and forcing himself to keep pushing forward. "But then when I was fifteen I ended up getting stuck with just him again and he was drinking and I got, uh, I was scared. So I locked myself in the guest bedroom but he had a key. And I wasn’t - I guess fight or flight kind of kicked in and you know which one I am.”

Buck let out a smirk he didn't really feel cross his face.  Eddie didn't react to his sad excuse for a joke at all.

“I tried to - I think I thought that maybe I had a shot because I’d joined the football team and wasn’t _as_ scrawny as I’d been - although high school you definitely could’ve easily kicked high school me’s ass. So I tried to stand up to him but that didn’t work, he _did_ kick my ass. So then I told him that I was going to tell my aunt when she got back from girl’s night or book club or wherever the fuck she was and he just kind of - I don’t know, it’s like he _broke_. Like before I said that he was living in some kind of delusional world where nothing really mattered. But then he got scared and angry and he -”

His throat felt tight and Eddie’s eyes were burning into him, but the words wouldn't stop coming now. It’s like he was _there_ and suddenly everything Frank was saying about needing to unpack the box stung like a freshly salted wound. 

“He picked me up by my throat and I thought I was going to die. I was blacking out, I couldn’t get him off me. I thought he was going to kill me. And then he - he must have overdone it or something, because he lost his grip for a second and I was able to get free and I hit him with something - I don’t remember. But he fell down and I just fucking _booked_ it. I stole his car keys and stole his car and just kept driving until a cop pulled me over for speeding. Think I was going like 100 or some shit. I didn’t even have my license.”

“Did the cop arrest him?” Eddie finally spoke up. 

Well, it was closer to a spit of pure venom than an actual sentence.

“Not that cop - he took me the hospital and wouldn’t leave until after my parents got there.” Buck didn't mention that he’d practically superglued himself to the cop’s side, terrified out of his mind of being left alone. “But yeah, they arrested him. And he ended up going to prison.”

The tension in Eddie’s shoulders relaxed just slightly. “Good. Thought I was going to have to go kill someone.”

He said it so matter-a-factly that it made Buck’s heart skip a beat. Which was fucking ridiculous. But still, it made him feel warm to know that someone cared about him enough to say something like that and _mean it._

“Well, melanoma is probably going to beat you to that.” At Eddie’s quizzical look, Buck elaborated: “That’s why I left work the other day. I got a call, he’s dying.”

“Why would they even bother you about that?” Eddie sounded utterly disgusted. “Just let him rot and die in prison.”

“Yeah, about that.” Buck winced. He could already see how the rest of this conversation was about to play out - and it wasn't pretty. “They _had_ to call me, because they’re letting him out on compassionate release next week.”

“ _What_?” Eddie seethed. His 'quiet' anger was quickly rising into full-blown anger. “Are you - you’re kidding right? What’s the point? Who the fuck cares if he dies in a prison hospital or a hospital hospital -”

“That’s what I said,” Buck muttered, but Eddie was already going full steam ahead.

“Wait a minute. Does this have anything to do with that weird Pennsylvania trip you and Maddie were going to do? Why would you want to go to there now, when he’s being released?”

Buck fidgeted with the beer label, unsticking it slowly from the glass bottle.

“ _Evan_.” And oh fuck, Eddie had never called him by his first name before. Only Chim ever did it, when he was teasing, and Bobby once when he was really fucking serious. “Please tell me it’s because you were planning on killing him or something.”

He was stone-cold serious and Buck had to laugh, even though it wasn't funny.

“Damnit Buck, are you kidding me?” Eddie flung his arm out when stood up, nearly smacking his own beer of the table. “You - why would you want to go see him? Are you insane? Do you want to trigger PTSD - because let me tell you, it’s not as fun as it sounds.”

“Oh shoot, you’re right, I did think PTSD sounded fun. That’s _exactly_ what I was planning on doing.” Buck retorted, still smirking.

Eddie shot him a dirty look. “This isn’t - I’m being serious. This is a _bad idea_. And - oh god damnit, you’re going without Maddie because of the hypertension, aren’t you? You’re really planning on flying to Pennsylvania to go confront your abuser on his deathbed _alone_ like some kind of _dumbass_ \--"

“What are you doing?” Buck interrupted, watching in confusion as Eddie started rapid-fire typing on his phone. 

Eddie didn't answer him. “Has Maddie cancelled her ticket yet?”

“Not yet, she was going to do that in the morning.” For someone who liked to pretend she was on top of everything, Maddie was actually a huge procrastinator. “ _Why._ ”

Eddie ignored him, continuing to type on his phone. “Okay, Carla says she can watch Christopher. Lena offered to pick up two of my shifts, I’ll see if Hen can grab the other one.”

It clicked. 

“Wait, Eddie, no -”

“And Maddie says that she’ll get the ticket transferred in the morning.” Eddie continued to steamroll Buck as if he didn't hear his protests.

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Well,” And finally Eddie actually looked at him - and had the decency to look sheepish. “If that’s okay with you. But fair warning if your answer is ‘no’, I might actually not let you leave this house.”

Buck was pretty sure that was a joke - and he’s also very sure that even if it wasn’t he could probably take Eddie in a fight. So he wasn't really worried. 

But what did give him pause was the level of worry in his friend’s eyes. At this point, he’d already dragged Eddie into the deep end of this shit creek. If he did go without him, Eddie would not only be pissed, but worried the entire time Buck is gone.

He might as well just take him to Pennsylvania. What the fuck, right?

He didn't give Eddie the pleasure of knowing he'd won. Buck just sighed, walked over to the fridge, and pulled out two more beers. “You’re a stubborn asshole, you know that right?”

“Pot meet kettle.”

A few minutes later, Buck got a text from Maddie.

_you’re taking Eddie???_

Then, two seconds later

_thank GOD_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW:  
> This chapter is even less vague than the previous ones, although nothing happens in real time.  
> The following are discussed or referenced:  
> Past abuse of a minor  
> Past sexual assault of a minor  
> Past attempted sexual assault of a minor  
> Past strangulation of a minor  
> Past attempted manslaughter of a minor
> 
> Spoilery TW:  
> Buck vaguely alludes to the sexual assault when he was 13, but describes the attempted manslaughter when he was 15 (and again vaguely alludes to it being an attempted sexual assault at first).


	5. Safety line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I never just bite into cookies anymore - I have to slowly nibble on them to make sure that I’m not about to get a mouthful of salt. You’ve successfully ruined cookies for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *puts on clown makeup*
> 
> TWs at end of chapter

Because he was an idiot, Buck completely forgot to tell his parents that Maddie wasn't coming.

He had been delaying telling them before he knew Eddie was coming, because he had legitimately been considering cancelling the trip. And if he just ended up cancelling anyway, then there would be no reason to come up with an intermediate excuse for why he was going to visit them without Maddie.

Then, the last couple days leading up to it were so hectic and anxiety-filled, that he just kinda… forgot? 

Yes, it had occurred to him a couple of times that he needed to come up with a good reason for why his best friend was flying across the country to meet them instead of their pregnant daughter. But his mind had drawn a blank every time and he had shoved it back down into the column of “things to worry about later.”

Well now, as they stepped through the arrivals gate to find Rachel Buckley herself holding up a sign that said “Madeline and Evan”, was definitely later.

For a moment, he was genuinely touched at her thoughtfulness. She had come to pick them up from the airport? She had made a _sign?_

But then he remembered that she was expecting her pregnant daughter to be walking next to him, and it made a bit more sense.  Parents were always different with their grandkids. His mom was probably desperate to win back Maddie’s affection and was planning on trying extra hard this trip to get back into her good graces to make sure that she could be in her granddaughter’s life.

Buck saw his mom before she saw him, and briefly considered hiding so that they could regroup and come up with a plan.

He, of course, forgot that he was 6’2”.

“Evan!” Rachel called, spotting him almost instantly, waving with an enthusiasm he didn’t know she could muster. She probably assumed Maddie was next to him, as his sister would be impossible to spot in the crowd with her diminutive stature.

“Shit.” Buck muttered, and Eddie turned to him in confusion.

“I thought we were taking the train.”

“Yeah me too.” He cringed. “So, uh, Eddie. There may have been something I forgot to do -”

“Evan!” His mom threw her arms around him and he reacted instinctively, picking her up. That was one of the warmest memories he had of her: when they both realized that he was big enough to lift her. He’d been fourteen, and he’d barely been able to lift her toes off the ground, but she’d still cried. Now he was easily able to lift her more than a foot off the ground, though he didn't swing her around like he would with Maddie.

“Hi Mom. I didn’t expect you to be here.” Buck tried to flash Eddie an apologetic look over the his mom’s shoulder, hoping that would explain what was about to happen.

Eddie just looked confused.

“I wanted to surprise you - well, _we_ wanted to surprise you, but your father had to work-”

And that was a surprise to no one.

“Anyway, where’s your sister?” Rachel asked as he set her down. She peered around, clearly expecting Maddie to pop up. “Did she stop in the bathroom? I know when I was pregnant with you I had to pee every five minutes -”

Now Eddie was no longer confused. Just exasperated.

“Uh, so Mom. About that.” Buck cringed. “I’m so so sorry, I completely forgot to let you know that there was a change of plans. Maddie can’t fly right now, because of the pregnancy.”

“What?” Rachel was torn between baffled and concerned. “Is she okay?”

“She's fine, she just had a high blood pressure scare last week. It was a few days ago, it was super last minute so it’s been a little bit of a scramble.” A bit of a stretch, but a little white lie never hurt anybody. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t realize I forgot to text you until I was on the plane and it was too late.”

Eddie was literally rubbing his temples behind Buck’s mom, who still had no idea who he was.

“Oh that’s…” It hurt to see how much his mom had deflated once she knew Maddie wasn't coming. He knew, logically, that Maddie’s pregnancy was the reason for the shocking amount of warmth that she was displaying, but irrationally it still stung. “That’s fine.”  Finally, his mom noticed the handsome man who’d been dawdling on the edge of their conversation. “Can we help you?”

Now there was the snappish Philadelphia mother he knew and… recognized, at least. “Mom, this is Eddie. My partner.”

Rachel’s mouth fell open in a perfect O.

The words that came out of Buck’s mouth registered in his brain a second later - it was almost too late because she had almost rallied, and oh god she was about to say something and -

“No, shit, sorry, I mean my co-worker. We’re work partners. Eddie’s my friend. And co-worker. We work together. At work.”

Jesus fuck his mouth would not stop moving.

Eddie looked like he was either going to crack up or bolt. Even he didn't seem sure which he’d choose.

Rachel looked confused. That was fair.

“Okay, um hello? Nice to meet you?” She waved at Eddie, before turning back to Buck. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to be rude Eddie but - Evan, what is he doing here?”

Fuck his anxiety and procrastination. Fuck him for thinking he could just “wing it” in the moment.

“I apologize for the surprise ma’am.” Eddie cut in smoothly, his voice suspiciously more Texan-sounding than usual. “Maddie was going to cancel her ticket but they were going to charge her an arm and a leg - and I’ve alway wanted to visit Philadelphia, so I offered to buy her spot. I’m a huge history buff, and Buck and I thought we might be able to catch a Phillies game while we were here. So we were able to work something out with the airline so that we could swap tickets for free.”

That was a bullshit story if Buck had ever heard one, but it was a lot smoother than whatever crap he had been about to spew.

Buck wasn't sure if she believed the story, or if she was charmed by Eddie’s sudden good 'ole southern boy persona (or maybe she was just charmed by Eddie’s general _Eddieness_ ), but Rachel actually seemed to buy it, letting down her guard. “Well nice to meet you - Eduardo?”

“Edmundo, but everyone calls me Eddie.”

“Nice to meet you Eddie. So you’re a firefighter then?”

And just like that, they hit it off.

Even though he was taller, Buck sat in the back of the car - and _god_ was it always this tiny? - because he knew that his mom would purse her lips if he made his “guest” sit in the backseat (and no amount of insistence that Eddie wasn't really a guest would convince her). 

And watched as through some miracle, Eddie completely won his mother over. _Without_ flirting with her, which was honestly just impressive.

“You know, we should really plan a day trip to the city.” Rachel mused. “There’s Elfreth’s Alley, The Betsy Ross House - and of course the Liberty Bell.”

“We can rendezvous with Nicholas Cage.” Buck muttered under his breath. Eddie snorted.

“So that could be tomorrow - and then you said you’re going to the Phillies game on Wednesday? Do you have tickets yet?”

“No ma’am, we’ll probably go see if we get some from scalpers on game day.” Eddie lied smoothly. It was clever, because then they could always lie and say they struck out and just went to a bar instead. That would give them plenty of time to make the visit to the hospital, without Buck's parents being any the wiser, and without having to recount details of a game they hadn't seen.

Too late, Buck remembered -

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Thomas has box seats. You know, maybe he’ll be able to take the day off and go with you. I’m sure he’d love that.”

“He probably wouldn't be able to take the day off, I don’t want to make him feel bad.” Buck interjected quickly, even though he knew his dad wouldn’t feel bad - Thomas would look at Buck like he was crazy if he asked him to take the day off to go to a _Baseball Game_. _“Are you five years old?”_ He would ask.

“Then maybe I’ll go.” His mother continued airily and Buck jerked, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the car.

“You _hate_ baseball.”

“That's not true! I like going to the games - I might not always know what’s going on, but I like being in the stands and watching them hit the ball, and if I get bored there’s always my book.”

Buck wanted to groan. Their plan was getting foiled because his mother wanted to go with them to a Phillies game and _read a book_.

What he really wanted to say is that she never went to _his_ games. Because she hadn’t. Not a single one - Maddie had been the one to take him to his Little League games when she was in high school with barely a driver’s license.

_ (And when Maddie wasn't available, then there was always good ole Uncle Benji._ )

But he couldn't say that now, not when his mom was being friendly and so far Eddie only knew this weirdly nice version of her. He equally didn't want to break the mood as much as he didn't want Eddie to think that he was being a brat.

It was amazing how just being in this town made him feel like he was seventeen again.

They pulled into the long driveway. Eddie didn't exactly whistle, but he made eye-contact with Buck in the side-view mirror and raised his eyebrows. Buck shrugged and hunkered into his seat a little more.

Yeah, it was an impressive house. It was also impressively cold and isolating and devastatingly lonely: the result of both his parents working 60 plus hour weeks throughout his entire childhood.

The house was a little bit different on the inside from when he last saw it when he came back for Maddie’s wedding. The wallpaper in the hallway was brighter and the the appliances in the kitchen had been upgraded.

“Look at this!” Rachel waved her hand over the trash can, and it opened automatically. “Pretty great, right?”

Eddie was enraptured. “Is that motion-detected? I’ve only seen these in office buildings. How much are they?”

Buck wanted to vanish into the floor. It had been five minutes and they were already talking about money. This was a huge mistake.

“60 dollars. I found them on Wayfair, they’re a steal!”

Eddie actually looked thoughtful. “That’s not nearly as bad as I thought. What do you think? Think Chris would get a kick out of it?”

“Probably.” Buck had to admit. “It would be easier for him too.” Chris loved to multitask as much as possible - Buck could easily see him using the motion detection technology to his advantage.

“Yeah, I think so too. Can you send me the link Mrs. Buckley?”

“Oh please call me Rachel.”

It was strange to think, but this was actually going smoother than it probably would have if Maddie had come along. 

If Maddie were here, with all her pregnancy hormones, and all of Buck’s anxiety (and don’t forget about the years of bitterness and tension), there would have been at least three blowups by now, and at least one of them would be in tears.

Meanwhile Eddie was just charming his way along, swapping household tips with Buck’s mom like the domestic dad he was. He had the added benefit of not having been _raised_ by Buck’s mom, so that was a plus.

“What’s all this?”

His father’s gruff voice interrupted them.

He looked shockingly older compared to Rachel. Probably because he was too stubborn to dye his hair, and would never let a needle anywhere near his face. But he also was exactly the way that Buck remembered him - a figure standing in the doorway, out of reach.

“Thomas!” His mom walked over and kissed his dad on the cheek. At least that was one thing Buck had never had to worry about - his parents definitely had loved _each other._ “This is Eddie, Buck’s partner.”

Jesus christ.

“Work partner. Friend.” Buck managed to use less words this time.

Eddie waved. “I’m just here for the war memorials and baseball.”

“Maddie had a bit of a health scare so he bought her ticket from her - such a nice man.”

For the first time, Thomas's attention actually snapped to Buck. “Health scare? Is Maddie okay?”

“Uh yeah. She had high blood pressure so she’s drinking her fluids, taking frequent walks, taking some medicine and is not allowed to fly. But they're monitoring her blood pressure, and Chim - Howie says that it was back down to normal this morning.”

“One of the benefits to having a paramedic as a fiancé, he’ll always be able to take care of her.” Rachel beamed.

_“One_ benefit.” Thomas muttered as he left the room.

Buck’s gaze snapped to Eddie, who looked offended. So yeah, he definitely heard the comment. He also looked a bit bewildered by his Thomas’s behavior.

It was probably wrong that it actually relaxed Buck to see his dad acting like an asshole. At least some things would never change.  He was always only an active parent if there was something resembling an emergency - otherwise he was shuffling off to haunt the office, either at work or at home.

Speaking of…

“I thought he had to work?”

“Oh, he’s been working from home more recently.” Rachel explained. “Ever since his promotion, he’s had way more flexibility with that sort of thing.”

Ah yes, the sort of flexibility that would allow him to pick up his children from the airport, maybe?

Eddie seemed to sense that Buck needed a minute to regroup, because he cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Mrs - Rachel. Any chance you can show me where I’ll be staying? I’m sorry to say that the lady behind me got sick on the plane and I think I can still smell it.”

That wasn't a lie - the lady behind them _had_ gotten sick, and Eddie had helped her get clean and guided her through breathing exercises to calm her down. And he _had_ gotten little bits of vomit on his clothes, which Buck could definitely still smell.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Rachel sprang into action, flustered. “Oh - well Evan, we turned your room into a gym a few years ago, so we were going to have you in the guest room - but Eddie since you're the guest, why don’t you take the guest room and Evan you can take Maddie's room.”

That was convenient, because Maddie’s room was on the other side of the house, right above the guest room. And they were right next to the back staircase, which no one had ever used except Maddie because it was right by her room. Which would make conspiring much simpler.

Rachel guided Eddie to the guest room, and Buck made the trudge up the stairs to Maddie’s room alone. When he opened the door, his mouth fell open.

It looked _exactly_ like he remembered it. Down to the photos from Maddie’s senior year of high school. He knew they'd left it untouched the entire time he lived there, but he'd expected them to have done _something_ different to it in the past decade. But no, it was still sitting here completely unchanged.

Meanwhile, his room was apparently a gym.

Buck swiveled around to take a panoramic picture of the room and sent it to Maddie with the caption

_Buck: can we both agree now that you’re the favorite?_

She must still have been on leave from work, because her response was almost instant.

_Maddie: oh my god that’s creepy. it’s like a time capsule._

_Maddie: wait, why are you in my room?_

Buck flung off his shoes and threw himself on the bed with a long-suffering sigh.

_Buck: because apparently my room is a gym and they’re not going to put Eddie in your room. he’s too suspicious._

_Maddie: wait really?_

_Buck: no. mom loves him. it’s annoying._

He felt petty when he sent the last message. Maybe it was a good thing that his room was gone, because Buck has a strong feeling that if he had been staying there, then his transformation into Evan Buckley, pouty seventeen year old would be absolute.

He wasn't sure how long he laid there, staring up at the ceiling, but at some point he must have fallen asleep because someone was kicking his leg.

“You know, you also smell like vomit and need a shower.”

Eddie’s face swam into view, his hair still wet from his own shower. 

Buck’s first half-asleep thought should absolutely not have been: _he looks good._

Great. Now he was having a gay panic. High school transformation complete.

Buck shook himself awake and into task-oriented mode. “I’ll get on that after we figure out how we’re going to _lose_ her on Wednesday.”

“Have you thought about just… telling her?”

Buck was still in a shitty mood, which is why he smacked himself on the forehead and said: “Oh right, I forgot that since you spent one car ride schmoozing her you now know my mother better than I do.”

Eddie looked unimpressed with his sass.

“Sorry. I’m just. It’s a lot. Being here.”

“Look, I don’t mean to overstep, but she seems like she’s trying. You were basically zoned out in the car, but most of the questions she was asking were about _your work_ and _you_.”

“She’s in guest-mode.” Buck explained. “I’ll admit, she’s being a little friendlier than I’m used to and it’s weirding me out, but she always gets a little fake when there’s a guest. And at first she was just excited to see Maddie and the baby.”

“The baby that’s still five months away from being born?”

“You know what I mean. But hopefully she won’t have enough time to get used to you and go back to normal. Anyway, if she thinks I’m dragging the whole Benji thing up again, she will actually eviscerate me, even if you are here.”

“It’s hard to picture her eviscerating anyone.”

“It’s not pretty.”

“Your dad on the other hand -”

“Is actually easier to deal with, because he's just an asshole. What you see is what you get.” Buck blew his cheeks out in annoyance. “I really don’t want to pick a fight with him, but if he insults Chim again -”

“I could say something.”

Buck laughed. “He’d just look at you like ‘who the fuck are you to speak to me in my house?’ and kick you out. He has no clue what the word guest means.” He took a deep breath, and breathed it out slowly, counting to five.

“You got it all out of your system?”

“My breath or my annoyance?”

“Both.”

“We’ll see.” Buck muttered, heading to Maddie’s ensuite bathroom. “We’ll see how I feel after I - oh fucking of course, they haven’t touched her bathroom either! _God_.”

* * *

Buck’s grumpiness was moderately mollified by the prospect of dinner. It looked good - and most importantly there was a _lot_ of it. His mother was definitely in guest mode - although apparently it had been in the slow cooker all day, which meant she had cooked it _before_ she knew that it would be Eddie, not Maddie.

Which still checked out. It made sense that Rachel would cook up a bunch of food for her pregnant daughter.

And yes… fine. She had probably taken Buck’s bottomless stomach into consideration as well.

“This looks delicious, Rachel.” Eddie flashed her his million watt smile.

“Yeah.” Buck agreed, picking up his spoon as he prepared to dig in.

He heard his mom's breath as it hissed through her teeth and looked up to see her scandalized expression. He double-checked himself. Not eating with his hands? Check. Elbows off the table? Check. So what was the problem?

Buck followed Rachel’s gaze to the other end of the table, where a fourth empty chair was sitting, with a place set.

Oh, come on.

Buck set his spoon down with a huff. Eddie's face twitched with what looked suspiciously like amusement and his mom actually giggled and - great. Eddie was supposed to be _his_ ally, but he’d traded sides over to the enemy.

“Did they not feed you on the airplane?”

Her tone was polite, but Buck’s hackles raised - he knew a classic Rachel Buckley passive-aggressive comment when he heard one. “No, actually. Not even peanuts.”

Buck’s sure his eyes were deceiving him, but his mom looked almost… _sympathetic?_ No, that couldn’t be it. She was probably just annoyed with him.

Loud footsteps rang through the hall and Buck instinctively sat up straighter. He sensed Eddie mirror him out of habit, and it gave him a strange sense of comfort. It was almost like they were on-duty, driving in the truck on their way to some cataclysmic call, with no idea what the day would bring, but their faith in each other was 100%.

Thomas sat down unceremoniously at the table. “Let’s eat.” He simply said. No apologies for being late, as always, just an expectation that the world wouldn’t start until he arrived. It was the complete opposite of Bobby, who wouldn't grab his own plate until he was sure everyone else was served, and never expected anyone to wait for him even though he'd spent hours slaving away in the kitchen.

Buck didn't have time to dwell on it, because it was taking all of his concentration not to inhale his food. God it was good. Not Bobby-level, but he was starving so it was the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten.

“Christ.” His dad's dry comment cut through Buck’s internal nirvana. “Do they not have _food_ in California?”

Buck paused, taking the criticism for what it was. 

He purposefully turned his spoon over, let the majority of it fall back into the bowl, and then scooped up the _tiniest_ portion of chili, and daintily placed it in his mouth. All while maintaining eye contact with his dad.

Rachel’s nervous laughter cut through the tension. “What do you do during those long shifts at the firehouse?” She asked them, clearly trying to play peacemaker. “No frozen meals I hope.”

“Not unless things get desperate.” Buck replied, breaking away from his dad. “But yeah we have some frozen meals in the freezer on standby in case we have a busy day and there’s no time to cook. Or we’ll order takeout. But usually we cook.”

“Oh, is there a kitchen in the fire house? That’s nice.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice actually. The fridge is really large, and the oven’s pretty new. It’s got basically every cooking tool under the sun - y’know, kitchen-aid, skillets, panini-maker, a butane torch-”

There was a coughing noise from the other end of the table. Thomas had nearly choked on a roasted carrot. “I’m sorry, but you’re telling me you actually know what a butane torch is?”

“Buck’s a good cook, actually.” Eddie jumped in with the save, probably to cut off whatever Buck’s passive-aggressive response was going to be - which was probably for the best. “He helps Cap make dinner all the time, basically Cap’s sous chef.”

That was… generous. Buck had only recently graduated from being able to chop up vegetables to actually being allowed to roast them (with the _butane torch,_ thank you very fucking much Dad). But he was less of a fire hazard than Chimney, generally more enthused about it than Hen was, and not completely hopeless like Eddie. So Cap let him stick around.

“So your captain cooks dinner for you? Wow.” Rachel nodded, impressed.

“Well, we all try to pitch in.”

“Except me.”

“Yeah, Eddie’s not allowed.”

“Why not?”

“Because he can’t tell the difference between salt and sugar.”

Eddie choked on his bread and made an indignant noise. “One time - it was one time.”

“All it takes is one time. I never just bite into cookies anymore - I have to slowly nibble on them to make sure that I’m not about to get a mouthful of _salt._ You’ve successfully ruined _cookies_ for me.”

“God you’re dramatic.”

Buck almost gave Eddie the finger, but caught himself just in time - for a moment it was just like they were back at the 118 joking around at family dinner, and he forgot himself.

But they weren't. They were in Doylestown with Buck’s literal family.  And Buck was so thankful that Eddie was here - he was like a safety line tethering him back to the real him. To California, to LA, to the 118.

To home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Nothing really, except some strained family time, and general anxiety surrounding the trip.  
> Also, awkward situations and Eddie Diaz being the G.O.A.T.


	6. Panic! At the Novelty Colonial Restaurant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Eddie's over thirty. And he has a kid. Are you saying he's not responsible?"  
> The man had color-coded lunch Tupperware, for fuck's sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *puts on clown nose and hat*  
> Please read end notes for TW

Eddie wasn't kidding about being a history buff.

Actually, scratch that.

Eddie was a history _nerd_.

The last time Buck had seen anyone that enthused in a museum was when he took Christopher to the California Science Center. Christopher had been entranced by everything: from the Extreme Zone to even the Rot Room.

He'd been so studious they hadn't left enough time to even get to the Lego Exhibit (the whole reason Buck had suggested the outing in the first place) and had needed to plan a second trip the following month. Which Eddie had joined them for, and looked thoroughly underwhelmed the entire time and Buck had wondered where Chris got his love of museums from.

Well, now he knew it was definitely genetic.

"This exhibit is literally just words, Eddie..." Buck whined, trying to drag his friend away from the Persistence of Slavery panel at the Museum of the American Revolution. "If you wanted to read about slavery after the Revolutionary war, there's like a million wikipedia articles about it..."

Eddie looked like Buck had killed his cat in front of him. "Wikipedia? This is an abolitionist publication from 1805. It's from the perspective of someone who was actually contemporaneous with this time period -"

"Doesn't contemporaneous mean modern?"

Eddie didn't even answer him, his attention fixated back on the panel.

Buck sighed dramatically. "This is worse than Chris in the Rot Room."

_That_ got Eddie's attention. "Oh that reminds me. I can't believe you showed him that maggot video!"

Ah fuck. Buck had been wondering when this confrontation would happen.

"Okay, that wasn't entirely intentional. We were looking at Youtube videos in the museum cafeteria and it happened to show up in the suggested videos - probably because we were talking about maggots earlier and the creepy phone AI heard us. And I swear, I did not realize it would be that graphic. I was just going to scrub to the part we were in so he could see us at work, but it all happened so fast."

Eddie huffed, walking away from the panel ( _finally_ ) and heading toward the museum gift shop, where Buck's mom was waiting.

Buck followed along, glad that Eddie had finally moved from his spot but more focused now on his mission to exonerate himself. "Honestly, I was more freaked out than Christopher was. He was laughing but I almost lost my lunch. And turned it off, immediately." 

He'd gone back to the video later with the intention of finding the timecode to start at that was Safe for Children™, but no such luck.

Because holy shit the Instagram comments were _thirsty_.

Had it been a self-esteem boost? Hell yeah.

Was he going to let Chris see it? Hell _no._

(Especially the comments that insinuated how him and Eddie should be a thing because what the fuck was _that_?)

Eddie seemed like he'd shrugged off the video thing by the time they found Buck's mom in the gift store. 

Rachel Buckley, as a born-and-raised Philadelphian, had been to this museum for at least as many field trips as Buck had, and was consequently as over it as he was. She'd finished the museum in fifteen minutes flat, breezing through the exhibits and if something interested her she'd look at it for maybe two minutes. 

That was definitely more the pace Buck would have preferred to do the museum. But the choice between spending his time waiting around for Eddie to finish reading whatever embossed paragraph he must have _memorized_ (because holy shit how did anyone read that slowly), and spending his time waiting for Eddie while he sat in whatever museum cafe or gift shop his mom had parked herself in, was not really a choice at all.

Even a completely silent Eddie's company was better than his mother's.

Not that she'd been bad today. Buck had to admit, she was being genuinely nice. Maybe Eddie was right about him being too hard on her. After all, Eddie was the unbiased one who had never met her before yesterday. He was completely unclouded by any childhood resentment.

"How was it?" She asked brightly, setting down her book that she'd been reading and started walking out of the gift shop. Upon realizing that they weren't going to buy anything, the beleaguered shop-keeper rolled her eyes in the background. 

"Fascinating." Eddie replied. "You know, I never realized that the Loyalists recruited slaves by promising them freedom. Somehow that never made it into our textbooks in Texas."

Okay fine, that was actually interesting. "I don't think that was in the Pennsylvania textbooks either. I didn't know that, and I've been here at least three times."

Eddie bumped his shoulder. "See what happens when you read?" He teased. "You actually learn things."

"I still prefer Wikipedia. Or a book." He'd gone on a bit of a book-reading kick last summer, heavily facilitated by Hen. She'd come by the hospital when he was recovering from his second surgery, and her eyes had gone wide in horror when she borrowed his laptop to order takeout and discovered the fifty-two tabs of his latest Wikipedia spiral. She'd helped him sign up for a LA City library card ("it's _free_ , Buck") and offered to drive to the library to pick up any books for him that he couldn't read online.

Buck had never been much of a reader growing up. He'd never had the focus for it. But when he was stuck in the hospital/apartment with no mobility, with so much free time that he'd gotten bored of every game on his phone and the thought of watching one more episode of _Top Chef_ made him want to scratch his eyes out - yeah, he liked reading now. 

"That's what a museum is. Just one big interactive book."

"Yeah, that you have to stand around in for hours." Buck complained, shaking out his left leg, which had been cramping.

"Are you boys hungry?" Rachel asked, eyeing him weirdly. "We could grab dinner at the City Tavern Restaurant."

"Isn't that the one where all the waiters dress up in old-timey clothes?"

"It's a bit hokey, but it's fun. And it's the closest restaurant."

Buck ended up being grateful for that, because by the time they made it to the restaurant, his leg had actually started to genuinely bother him. It was the combination of the long walks followed by intermittent periods of standing around.

Really it was his own fault - he knew that today would go like this, but he hadn't done his stretches, like a dumbass. And now he was just going to have to suffer, because if he said anything now Eddie would get all medic on him, which was the last thing he wanted to happen in front of his mother.

But apparently, he didn't have to say anything because the instant that Eddie excused himself to go the bathroom (leaving Buck alone with his mom for the first time in seven years) she gave him a critical look and asked, "Is your leg okay?"

He almost fell off the chair in shock. How had she noticed before Eddie, a trained army medic?

Then again, she did always have an eye like a hawk; her ability to spot any flaw like a tiny stain or particles of dust should have been documented by scientists a long time ago. Buck just wasn't used to that scrutiny being directed toward his well-being.

"It's a little stiff." He said without thinking, too surprised to lie. "I just need to stretch it out."

"Do you need to go do that now?"

"Nah, it's fine. I'll do it when I get home. It's not that bad."

"You've been keeping your weight off it since the Benjamin Franklin museum."

What was _happening_. "Yeah, I'm just being cautious. Really, I'm fine."

Rachel took a sip of her 'Tavern Ale', looking unconvinced. "If you say so... does this happen often? Does it ever happen at work?"

"Um..." The honest answer was _yes_ , but it had become relatively infrequent and he usually didn't notice it until the adrenaline of the call had worn off and they were back at the house, where Hen would be ready with her magic hands and some Deep Heat. "Not really. I always stretch it when I'm working. I just forgot to do it today because I don't normally need to on my day's off."

Rachel pursed her lips, not saying anything.

It was a bad idea to poke the bear, but - 

"What?"

"Well, I just thought you said it was totally healed. It was such a big deal for you to go back to work, and you said that it was like your leg had never been injured. But if it's hurting you just from a day of walking around -"

"It's not - it's just a cramp. Everyone gets cramps. I got them before I hurt my leg. It's not a big deal."

"A titanium rod in your leg is a _very_ big deal." 

Buck almost swore. He'd never gone into the specifics of his crush injury with her - he hadn't been able to fully hide it from his parents, because when he'd called his mom on her birthday last summer she'd insisted on Facetime and asked him to show her around the loft... and he hadn't been able to successfully disguise his pitiful hobbling. 

He'd glossed over the specifics though, just saying he injured it at work. But Maddie must have mentioned something to them.

"It's seriously fine. I took my time through the recovery process and followed my doctor's advice and went back to work when everyone agreed I was ready." She did _not_ need to know about the lawsuit. Maddie and Chimney (and Eddie, when Buck had frantically texted him the ground rules for the visit at two in the morning the night before their flight) had been sworn to secrecy about that particular chapter of his life.

"I just..." Rachel shook her head. "Evan, I don't understand why you would go back to that job."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What? Why - Why wouldn't I? I love my job."

"I know you say that. But do you really think it's sustainable? It's not really a career. Do you really see yourself doing that in twenty years?"

"I'll keep doing it as long as they let me." Buck couldn't believe his ears. It's not like his parents had been supportive when he'd told them that he was in training to be a firefighter, but they'd never been supportive of anything so it wasn't anything new. His dad had actually been almost resembling accepting, saying that maybe he'd finally learn some damn discipline.

( _Fuck_ his dad, but he wasn't wrong).

But in the last couple years, they hadn't said anything to outwardly criticize it. There was a small part of Buck that thought maybe they were actually a little proud that he'd found something useful to do with his life. 

Well, apparently not.

"Listen, it was one thing when you were in your mid-twenties and needed a little direction. But you're almost thirty. Risking your life like that everyday, it's not responsible."

Buck jerked his thumb at thumb at the bathroom (which, where the hell was Eddie anyway? Taking the world's longest shit?). "Eddie's over thirty. And he has a kid. Are you saying he's not responsible?"

The man had color-coded lunch Tupperware, for fuck's sake.

"I'm not his mother. And he's not you." Rachel set her beer down, done with the pretense of enjoying it. "You've always been a thrill-seeker, Evan. Running off to California, to Brazil, without even a phone call. Before you decided to be a firefighter you were dead-set on being a Navy SEAL. That was your dream - do you even remember that?"

"So what, you think being a firefighter is too dangerous... so you want me to be a SEAL?" 

"No. _God_ no. I'm saying that you say you love your job, but from where I'm sitting it doesn't seem like it's the job you love. It's just another way for you to self-destruct. It seems like you like putting yourself in danger. Playing the hero."

Resentment boiled inside Buck. 

It was one thing for _Cap_ to lecture him. Bobby was right there with him on calls, had witnessed Buck's impulsivity and was more than willing to call him out for it. But for every _what were you thinking_ there were at least a dozen _good job_ s. Bobby trusted him, was proud of him, was constantly telling him how much he'd grown, how lucky the firehouse was to have him.

_You saved two lives without the uniform. It's not a costume - it's who you are._

"I'm not playing the hero. You would know that, and maybe I'd give a damn what you thought, if you actually knew _me."_ It came out hot and mean, completely bypassing his brain-to-mouth filter. "Or maybe if you'd actually raised me growing up, instead of letting Maddie do the heavy lifting - or passing me off to a pedophile."

He knew, as soon as the words left his mouth, that he'd crossed the line.

Her eyes welled up in shock and Buck instantly felt terrible. His mom was not a crier. She was emotional, but she'd always preferred to express that emotion by yelling. 

At the same time though, he felt no desire to comfort her or take back what he'd said. Because he'd meant every single word of it, even if he probably shouldn't have spat it out at a novelty colonial restaurant.

Eddie was going to come back at any moment and Rachel would put her fake smile back on and they'd all be forced to sit through this godawful uncomfortable dinner. And then the godawful drive back, and the godawful week in that godawful house. Whatever spell had been in place that was keeping everyone civil, Buck had just broken it. More than likely, there would be more confrontations to follow...

And he was tired.

Buck stood up abruptly, digging through his pockets to find a twenty dollar bill to set on the table. "That should cover my order." He muttered. "I need some air."

* * *

Buck was in his jeans, and his leg was cramping, but when he stepped outside instinct took over and his feet started running automatically. 

He'd always liked running. As a kid he'd been scrawny but fast, his long legs easily covering ground in one stride that would take other kids at least two. He'd played sports like baseball and soccer because they were suited for his physique, and he could be good with natural talent alone without having to work that hard.

In high school he'd decided to go out for football, figuring that he would make a good running back or maybe even a quarterback. That had been hard work, because his high school's football team was no joke. He was benched on the J.V. team for most of his first season, and that's when he'd discovered the gym for the first time. He'd bulked up a bit and gotten stronger, but he was still a kid and his body just wasn't built for retaining the muscle.

Still, it had been enough for them to actually let him play at the end of the season, and the following year he'd really pushed himself during pre-season and was made a Varsity/J.V. floater. He never actually got to play in a Varsity game that year, but he got to go to their practices once a week and work out with the team. He'd made friends with some of the seniors and they'd given him some tips on bulking up. Buck had followed some of them, but getting into that kind of shape was a lot of work and he didn't really feel like it was necessary. Not when he had three different girls ask him to Homecoming in the span of a week.

Then he was nearly strangled to death.

He'd been picked up, by his throat, and shoved against the wall, like he weighed nothing. Like _he_ was nothing. 

By the time Buck was out of the hospital the season was over, but he'd eventually been able to join the offseason workouts. And that time, he'd thrown himself into it. He listened to every stupid-sounding tip that the seniors had for him. He started going to the gym on his own, doing specific exercises for specific muscles. He started controlling his eating, cutting out bad carbs and increasing his protein intake. 

Yes, he got obsessed with it. By the time he graduated high school Buck measured his worth in three ways: body fat percentage, how much he could lift... and how much sex he was having.

But that was a long time ago. Whatever his original motivations were, they'd transitioned into something certainly healthier. Buck liked being strong, his body felt natural to him. He liked the ease in which he could lift things, or jump over something, or run away from a burning building with someone in his arms. It made him a better firefighter, a better protector.

The running though. That had always been nothing more than pure escape. 

It was dark when he stopped, at some park that he didn't recognize. His leg was burning and it was officially getting reckless.

So he found a bench and started doing his exercises, massaging his leg and really wishing that Hen was there.

That's how Eddie found him fifteen minutes in, laying on a bench with his left leg pointed straight in the air, and his arms wrapped around his thigh.

Eddie didn't say anything, just tapped him on the arm until he released his leg. Wordlessly, Eddie replaced Buck's grip with his own arms, pulling back on his leg until Buck gave a soft grunt.

They continued through the last of the exercises in silence.

When they were done, Buck swung his legs back onto the ground so that Eddie could sit down next to him. 

He didn't bother asking Eddie how he'd found him. After the Tsunami, when Eddie had spent the day thinking that Buck and Christopher were safe at the movies, Buck had started sharing his location with Eddie in "Find My Friends" whenever he had Chris for the day. Then Eddie had started sharing his location, and eventually they both stopped turning it off.

"You wanna tell me what happened?"

"She didn't tell you?" 

Eddie shook his head. "She was obviously upset, but she said you just went for a walk. I went to go find you - wasn't really expecting for you to run halfway across the city."

Buck shrugged. "I just got pissed off. Said something I probably shouldn't have. I have no idea how I'm supposed to go back and face her."

"Do you want to?"

"Not really." He sighed. "I know, I'm an asshole. You're right, she's been trying. But when you left she started saying all this stuff about me, about my job. And I do think she was trying to care, or be a parent." He barked out a laugh. "But y'know, she's about fifteen years too late."

"Is that what you said?"

"Something along those lines. I said... I might've said something about how she should've actually raised me instead of making Maddie do it."

"Ah."

"I also might have said _instead of passing me off to a pedophile_."

Eddie didn't reply to that but Buck could picture his wince. 

"Like I said, I'm an asshole."

"Look, Buck." Eddie put his hand on Buck's shoulder. "I know I'm supposed to be the impartial third-party here. And yeah, your mom has been nice to me. But there's a lot of shit between you guys and I probably only know about 1 percent of it. Your mom being nice for a day and a half isn't going to just erase that." 

"I guess."

"Hey." Eddie waited for Buck to look up at him. "I'm always on your side, you know that. I've got your back. That goes for everything: from collapsing buildings to collapsing train cars to ... yes. Even your parents."

"Collapsing relationships- well, _collapsed_ relationships." Buck joked, but his heart wasn't in it. "I mean, that's it right? We don't have a relationship, and suddenly she's acting like we do, and it's driving me nuts. Like if she wants to eat dinner together and talk about museums and stuff that's fine, but she doesn't have the right to criticize my life choices. She doesn't know me."

"You're right." Eddie continued maintain level eye-contact even as Buck fidgeted with the urge to look away. "So... what do you want to do?"

He exhaled swiftly. "I - god, I don't really want to go back but I know I have to. It's just - I came here for a reason. I'm supposed to be getting closure. But if I stay in that house, I know it won't happen. I just... when I'm there and when I'm around them I feel like I'm losing myself. I keep going back into that headspace, y'know?"

"And now that I've broken the peace, it's going to be ten times worse. She's going to talk to my dad and he'll feel like he needs to assert himself and - well who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky and he'll kick me out."

Now he had to look away. Eddie's grip on his shoulder remained warm and solid. Anchoring him in place. 

"Why do we have to go back?"

Buck barked out a laugh. "Look, I wish we didn't have to but - I mean, first of all our stuff is there."

"I've got my wallet and my phone - I can live without a couple t-shirts and my shaving cream."

"I mean..." There were some shirts that Buck didn't want to exactly part with, plus his favorite pair of jeans. But nothing _that_ critical. "I guess we could maybe pick it up later? Even if they're furious with me, my mom wouldn't hold that against you."

"Great. I'll check if there's a Holiday Inn or some other relatively cheap hotel nearby." Eddie pulled out his phone.

Buck grimaced. "I should... I should call my mom. Crap, I feel like a jackass for abandoning her alone in the city."

"Text her and tell her that I'm coming back and I'll take her to her car. There's a Holiday Inn Express near the restaurant, we can Uber back and you can get us checked in."

He should've been annoyed with Eddie's calm command over the situation, at being bossed around. But it was the complete opposite effect. Just like he had when he'd insisted on coming here, Eddie had somehow known exactly what Buck needed and was just... doing it. No hesitation, no second-guessing. 

"You're my favorite person." Buck said sincerely, leaning his cheek against Eddie's hand. "Well... second-favorite. No one can compete with -"

"Christopher, I know." Eddie's thumb rubbed his shoulder slightly. "Thank you."

"I'm serious. You're - I'm sorry this has been such a one-way-street. You put up with so much from me, and you never ask for anything back. So just... thank you. For being here. And putting up with me."

It was a really heartfelt sentiment, so Buck was surprised when Eddie retracted his gaze as if stung. Like he was somehow offended.

"Well that's bullshit. Buck I don't 'put up with you' that's not how friendships work."

"You know what I meant."

"Yeah, I do. That's the problem. Listen, I'm here because I want to be. Because I hated the idea of you being here alone. It's not some quid pro quo thing where I'm doing you a bunch of favors that you'll have to repay which - for the record? If we were keeping score? I'd be so fucking far in your debt it's not even funny. Everything you've done for Christopher? Everything you do for him, and for me? Buck you _saved my son's life_. I will never, ever, be able to repay you for that. But I'm not going to try, because that's not what friendship is. It's not a give and take. It's about showing up, and just being there for the people you love. And you do that better than anyone else I know."

The air was weirdly electric yet stifling. Buck knew he was supposed to say something but there wasn't anything he could think of that could follow up... that.

So he just leaned over until their arms were touching from wrist to shoulder, hoping to silently communicate all the gratitude and trust that he felt, in a way that he couldn't bungle up with words.

Eddie put his hand on Buck's knees and didn't move it until the Uber arrived.

Sometimes they spoke best without talking at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW:  
> Brief mention of past strangulation of a minor  
> Brief use of the word "pedophile" and subsequent implication of childhood sexual assault  
> Difficult relationship with parent


	7. Why redwoods grow so high

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I think I was the one who warned you about triggering PTSD."  
> "Yeah, you did. You'd think by now I would've learned to listen to you, huh?"  
> "I mean, I _am_ always right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the heaviest chapter, just a head's up.  
> TW in the end notes.

They did end up going to the Phillies game.

It didn't end up mattering that they didn't use the Buckley's box seats, because basically every seat in Citizens Bank Park was a good one. The breeze coming through the chain-link fence was a huge relief when the sun was beating down on them - although not so much when the sun started to set and the temperature dropped 15 degrees.

In the end, it didn't even matter that the Phillies got absolutely _creamed,_ because by some dumb luck they were playing the Dodgers, so Buck would've been happy no matter who won.

Unfortunately, they were seated near some die-hard fans, who did not appreciate the way that Eddie jumped to his feat and cheered (he was a _huge_ Dodgers fan) when Bellinger hit a home run with the bases loaded at the top of the sixth. 

If looks could kill, Eddie would have been dead four times over. 

As they exited the stadium, Buck felt a little bit like Eddie's security detail as he placed his body fully between his friend and the irate Phillies fans.  They made it to a nearby bar without getting into any altercation, which Buck counted as a win.

"You've seriously got a death wish, huh?" Buck commented sardonically as they waited for their drinks.

Eddie shrugged. "I just don't like letting assholes ruin my fun."

"You sure you weren't looking for a fight? Pretty sure I saw you wink at that guy after Hoskins fumbled that catch."

"No, _Frank,_ I was not looking for a fight." Eddie rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "I wasn't looking to screw up a good day."

Against all odds, it _had_ been a good day. They'd slept in, gotten a late brunch, then just sort of wandered around downtown. 

Even though he'd been there a million times, it was like seeing the city with new eyes for Buck; he'd never been here without a purpose, a destination. 

The highlight of the day had been discovering the Fireman's Hall Museum. They stumbled onto it purely by accident ("Hey Eddie, that looks like a firehouse!") and became fast friends with the museum's curator, a retired firefighter who traded a few good-natured jibes with Buck for "selling out to LA".

"You mean to tell me that you left Philadelphia, the birthplace of the fire brigades, to go to freaking Los Angeles? The birthplace of reality tv?" The man had accused, but he'd been happy to swap stories with them and had been particularly impressed with the tale of their daring high-rise earthquake rescue.

They'd had to part ways as they realized that game time was nearly upon them and they had to get all the way across the city, but swapped phone numbers with a promise to show the curator around LA if he ever made it out to the left coast.

"It has been a good day." Buck agreed, accepting their beers from the bartender with a nod, and making his way over to a booth that just freed up. "Not that I'm complaining, but I'm shocked my mom hasn't called. Or even texted."

Eddie made a noncommittal shrug. "I might have suggested that she give you some space." At Buck's surprised look, he added. "We talked a bit when I walked her to her car last night."

"Do I want to know what about?"

"Nothing bad. That was basically the extent of it."

Buck wanted to press further, but he just didn't want to think about his parents tonight. He hadn't thought about them all day and his entire body felt like it had been untangled from the tight knot he'd been living with ever since he got off the plane. 

Being here, in the city he hadn't grown up in but was near enough to his town to be considered "home" without the pressures of anyone from his family was a gift he hadn't realized he needed. It was actually fun to show Eddie around and share a part of his past without any of the complications of his childhood issues.

No sooner did Buck have that thought than he spied it: a poster advertising the upcoming 2nd street festival. 

_Music!_

_Food!_

_Beer!_

_Fun!_

"Buck? Hey Buck are you okay?"

_"You're sure you don't want to come with us, Evan?"_

Eddie was there. What was Eddie doing there? Why was he so close to Buck's face, why did he look so concern-

Buck looked down at his fingers. They were bleeding. 

_"It sounds boring."_

There were glass shards all over the table. 

"Hey man, you need to get your friend home." 

_"There'll be fireworks."_

Eddie snapped his attention toward a bartender who'd come with a broom and an annoyed expression. "He's not drunk."

The bartender looked at the broken glass dubiously. "Look, I don't make the rules. Someone starts breaking glasses, I gotta kick 'em out."

_"I'd rather hang out with Uncle Benji."_

"Just - gimme a minute -"

"Sorry." Buck muttered. He was distantly aware of everything going on around him, but it felt like he was underwater. 

_"Look Benji, I know you're busy and probably sick of us leaving him with you-"_

Or like he was just starting to wake up.

Eddie put an arm under his shoulder. "Hey buddy, we're going to go back to hotel, okay?"

_"But he says he misses you-"_

"Buck, are you with me?"

_He says he misses you._

* * *

He was curled up in the hotel bed, facing the wall. He knew Eddie was behind him, watching him but not saying anything. Buck wasn't sure - had he pushed Eddie away when he got to the room? He didn't know. 

He couldn't remember.

"I said I didn't want to go with them."

He heard Eddie jerk, like he was startled. Like maybe it had been a long time since Buck had spoken. 

"He stopped hanging out with me." Buck knew he probably sounded as small as he felt, but he couldn't muster up enough energy to be embarrassed. "We used to - he used to come to all my big games, even when my parents never did. He took me to the zoo, and six flags. He was even at my fifth grade graduation, because my mom couldn't make it and my dad said that it was stupid, and I cried about it so he came so that I'd have someone there."

Buck sucked in a deep breath, not wanting to say the next part, but knowing he needed to do it. That he needed to face it, to admit it to someone for the first time.

"Then he just... he stopped. And I didn't understand why. Maddie was gone and he stopped hanging out with me and it was like nobody cared about me anymore.

"And I... I missed him. I kept begging my parents to let me stay at his house, but he always said he was busy."

He'd been so lonely, so hurt. Maddie had been spending most of her holidays with Doug, and Benji didn't want anything to do with him anymore and Buck knew it was because they had gotten sick of him. Because he was too much to handle.

Too _exhausting_.

"My parents were going to this festival for the day, for the Fourth of July. And they said I could come but I begged them to let me stay with Benji. And for the first time in forever he actually said yes, and I was so excited."

He was shaking, completely closed in on himself. "I - I asked to go over there. I begged to. I - God - Eddie..."

There was a shifting noise behind him, and footsteps. Then Eddie was crouching down in front of Buck so that they were eye-level. "Can I touch you?" He asked softly, and Buck nodded desperately.

“Please.”

Then Eddie was pulling him into a hug that should've been more awkward than it was, since he was curled up on the bed and Eddie was kneeling down.

But it just felt warm, and solid, and safe.

And Buck let himself completely break.

"It's my fault - it's my fault." He sobbed, squeezing Eddie's back so hard he was afraid he might break it.

"No, no, no, no." Eddie was saying repeatedly, rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder. "It wasn't. It wasn't anyone's fault but his."

"No, he didn't want to. He - he knew - he was avoiding me. But I was so needy - I wouldn't leave him alone. If I'd just left him alone-"

"You don't know what would've happened." Eddie insisted, not letting go. "You don't know. Buck there was something wrong with him, okay? If he really couldn't stop himself from hurting you just because you came over to stay at his house one time? Then he was going to hurt you, or someone else, anyway."

They stayed like that, for god knows how long. Well past the point of it being embarrassing. But Buck couldn't bring himself to care. Even though he was the larger of the two, being in Eddie's arms made him feel protected.

Finally, he pulled back, wiping at his eyes.

"Sorry," He croaked, seeing the way that Eddie winced a little as he adjusted his position. "I probably should have warned you before you came along that I'd be losing my shit at least once a day."

Eddie shot him a look - exasperated, yet with a gentleness that made something inside Buck ache. "I think I was the one who warned you about triggering PTSD."

Buck huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, you did. You'd think by now I would've learned to listen to you, huh?"

"I mean, I am always right." Eddie's gaze turned more serious. "And I'm right about this. It was not your fault."

Buck shrugged, feeling like all the energy had been sapped out of him. "I - logically, I know that. Like I can tell myself that, but I don't - I can't make myself believe it." He paused, half-expecting Eddie to argue with him. When he didn't, Buck found himself continuing. 

"You know I don't actually remember what happened?" He told Eddie quietly. "It's not just that I can't talk about it - I really don't remember. Just - like, weird pieces of it."

Which was... what he remembered was more than enough. It was enough to know that he didn't want to _ever_ fully remember it.

“I mostly remember what happened after. I remember just sitting on the couch the next morning watching a football game like everything was totally normal, waiting for my parents to pick me up. I remember throwing away that stupid shirt because it got... it got something on it, and when I saw it I started to remember and I couldn't. I just - it was easier if it didn't happen, you know?"

Eddie nodded, a light of understanding in his eyes, and Buck imagined the sound of gunfire and explosions going off in his mind. "Yeah, I do know."

"It wasn't a decision I made." Buck tried to explain. "It's like my brain just did it for me. Like it got stuck trying to process it, so it just deleted it. Or hid it, or whatever. Most of it. Sometimes I'd get like weird flashes of it, but it was mostly fine. But then he almost killed me and he got arrested and I had to make my statement and I had to try to piece it back together.

"And when I told the police, and the lawyers... I hadn't really named it, you know? What happened. In my head it was like this weird, horrible thing, that I couldn't really explain or understand. But when I told them everything, they called it... they said it was _rape_. And that..." Buck drew a shuddering breath. "I hated that. It was like them saying that filled in all these blanks that I didn't want to be filled. And even though I couldn't remember everything that happened, I _knew_ what happened. But I didn't want to."

"Did you feel ashamed or something?"

“No, Eddie," Buck couldn't stop himself from snapping, but he was too tired to put any real heat behind it. "I was a highschool football player who was totally shameless about being sexually assaulted. _Yes._ I was mortified that people would find out - they said that it would be kept under wraps if I wanted it to, but our town wasn't that big. But I'd already started to get a bit of a reputation for sleeping with a few girls, and I guess I sort of leaned into that."

"You were protecting yourself." Eddie observed. "In case it got out. You were trying to prove that it hadn't affected you."

"It never really got past a couple of weak rumors, thankfully. I mean, everyone knew when he attacked me, it was a big fucking deal, but pretty much no one knew why. If anyone asked me, I just said he was crazy... but I kept sleeping around. I dunno, maybe I was trying to prove something to myself. And then I just sort of never stopped."

"Until Abby, right?"

"Yeah."

A strange look crossed Eddie's face. "Did you ever tell her?"

Buck bit his lip. "Abby? Not really... I mean, I sort of hinted that there was something, but we never really got there. I was thinking about it, then her mom died and it sort of didn't feel like the right time."

"You hinted?"

"Just that something bad happened to me when I was a kid, but I wasn't ready to talk about it. Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if she figured it out. She was good at that."

“Hmm.” Eddie murmured, clearly about to say something, but was interrupted by Buck’s phone vibrating.

He dug it out of his pocket, frowning at the number. Great, another mystery Pennsylvania number. Maybe it was the hospital, letting him know that Benji was already dead. 

“Hello?” Buck answered, clearing his throat. God, if they were calling him to tell him Benji was dead… he’d be so pissed off. All of this for fucking _nothing_.

_“Hello, is this Evan Buckley?”_ A woman’s thin, nervous voice rang out on the other side of the telephone. She sounded almost familiar.

“Yes, who am I speaking to?”

There was a deep inhale from the other end. _“Hi Evan… it’s Jenny. Your, uh, your aunt.”_

Buck nearly dropped the phone. Of all the strange calls he’d gotten in the last few weeks, this was the absolutely _last_ one he was expecting.

“Um… why are you calling me?” Eddie’s eyebrows scrunched up at Buck’s rudeness, but Buck ignored him - Eddie hadn’t been there when this woman practically spat in his face. Buck could be as rude as he damn well pleased.

_“I was… I saw your mom posted on Facebook that you were in town.”_

“I didn’t know you guys were still Facebook friends.” Women of Rachel and Jenny’s generation took Facebook friendships _very_ seriously. The concept of them falling out in real life yet remaining Facebook friends was unfathomable.

_“We’re not… our cousin shared her post and I saw it. I don’t know if you’re staying with your parents or if you’re in Philadelphia, but I was wondering if maybe you would be willing to get coffee with me tomorrow morning?”_

Buck scowled at the hotel wall. 

No. No, he did not want to get coffee with this woman that he used to call aunt. “How did you get my number?” He deflected.

_“I asked around the family. Listen, Evan, I know that I’m probably the last person you want to see, but I… I saw Benji last week. He… he finally told me the truth.”_

His grip tightened on the phone. “Yeah? And what truth would _that_ be?”

_“Evan…”_ She sounded like she was crying on the other end. _“I am so sorry. I - he was my husband. I loved him, I trusted him with my life. I didn’t know how to believe it. But he’s dying and he doesn’t have any reason to lie anymore, and he told me that - he was sick. He told me things about his father that I never knew, and it makes sense but it just doesn’t sound like the man I married. I still can hardly believe it. But I know that I need to try to make things right with you.”_

“You’re thirteen years too late.” He told her bitterly, and hung up on her.

Then threw the phone across the room so hard that it immediately shattered on impact with the wall.

Eddie just looked at him non-judgmentally.

“I needed a new phone anyway.”

* * *

That night, when Christopher called Eddie to say goodnight, Buck just lay on his side, pretending to be asleep.

Maybe it was because he was afraid that Christopher would be able to see that he wasn't okay. Maybe he just wanted to keep Chris, and his brightness, out of this dark hole that Buck had crawled back into.

Or maybe, he thought, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, maybe he was still ashamed.

* * *

_"_ _So then I told him, if he really thinks he knows his Nobel Laureates better than me, then he can answer the question. So, of course, we lost, but at least I was right."_

_The table burst into laughter._

_Evan laughed with them, although he didn't think it was funny. Although they had been dating for a several years, this was Maddie's first time bringing her boyfriend Doug home for Thanksgiving._

_Evan didn't like him._

_He'd told Maddie as much, the night before, and she'd laughed and pinched his arm like he was still six years old. "You never like my boyfriends."_

_And that wasn't_ entirely _true - he'd liked Jason, who had actually been nice to him and played video games with him and didn't treat him like an annoying brat that was always interrupting "date time". But Maddie and Jason had broken up when she left for college, and then Maddie had met Doug._

_And Doug was... well, he'd been there for four days, and all he'd really talked about was himself._

_Evan dug into his mashed potatoes, wishing he could be anywhere but here. If it were a different dinner, he would've jumped into the conversation a long time ago, or even struck up a side conversation with Maddie that was more fun. He would've asked about her nursing classes, the Steelers game that she went to, told her about the new friends he was making in high school._

_But for once, he didn't want to call attention to himself._

_"You know, I was a trivia buff in college." Benji said around a mouthful of beer. He was all the way across the table - Evan had made sure of it - but it was still too close. Every time he spoke, it was like nails were scratching across a chalkboard._

_Aunt Jennifer laughed, nudging him slightly in the side. Evan wondered if he was the only one who noticed the way that her hand closed around his bottle, setting it firmly down. "Oh, is that the way that you remember it? Because I seem to remember you bringing me along so that I could whisper all the right answers in your ear."_

_Doug grinned, wrapping an arm around Maddie. It looked a little possessive. "Well, I always bring Maddie along, but that's just because she's my good-luck charm. The best thing that ever happened to me."_

_Everyone awed, although their mom pursed her lips a little. He was pretty sure she didn't like Doug either._

_And who knew what the hell their dad was thinking, ever._

_"So Rachel," Doug directed his attention at their mom, maybe sensing that she still wasn't his biggest fan. "When are you going to come down for a visit?"_

_"Oh, I wish we could." She schmoozed falsely. "But you know, Thomas he's so busy. And Evan has basketball season coming up, so weekends are out for us."_

_"Well, you could always come visit without him." Yup, Doug was a dick. Evan couldn't stop the disbelieving look that he shot at his sister's boyfriend, who backtracked. "I mean, you're old enough to stay home for a weekend, right? It's kind of nice to have that freedom - the house all to yourself."_

_Before Evan could say anything, Thomas cut him off. "Absolutely not." Evan was sure visions of the house being trashed were crossing through his mind._

_"We could always watch him." Offered Aunt Jenny. "It's been awhile since he stayed with us."_

_"Hell_ _no." The words jumped out of his throat before he could stop it._

_Everyone turned to stare at him in shock._

_"Excuse me?" His mom asked, eyebrows in a hard line. "Evan, that was rude. Apologize to your aunt immediately."_

_"Sorry -" The words choked up in his mouth, everyone's accusing glares hot on him. And he was - god, he was_ looking _at him, and glaring at him, and he couldn't do this._

_"That's it?" Rachel shook her head in disappointment. "Clean off your plate and go to your room until you can come up with a better apology."_

_It was humiliating, beyond humiliating, being treated like a child at a table full of adults. But Evan was just grateful for the escape, as he snatched his plate and stormed off to the kitchen. Thank god._

_He was scraping his plate off into the trash when he heard footsteps following behind him. Hopefully Maddie, but probably his dad or -_ ugh, _please don't be Doug -_

_Evan turned around and nearly dropped the plate._

_"What the hell do you want?"_

_Benji held his hands up. He was_ smiling _. "I just wanted to check on you. You seemed upset back there. Where's my happy little man?"_

_His heart felt like it had been lodged in his throat. What was_ this? 

_"You don't like your sister's boyfriend, right? That's it?" Benji's voice was pleasant, but there was a hard edge to it. "That's what's got you so bent out of shape, right? And that's what you're going to tell your parents later. Right?"_

_Evan's grip on the plate was shaking. He wanted to throw it at Benji's face, to scream, to run, to do_ something _. But it was like he was frozen in place._

_"Listen," Benji continued to move closer, trapping Evan in the corner of the kitchen. "I don't want you to come stay with us, okay? I think it would be better for both of us if you didn't. And I'm more than happy to come up with a good excuse for your parents for you. But I'm going to need something from you first."_

_He was way too close, and his hand came down on Evan's shoulder. It was heavy, and crushing, and Evan's brain stopped working._

_Benji couldn't - he wouldn't - he - oh god_ would _he?_

_His parents, his sister were right there. He just needed to get his mouth working, call for help._

_"Your word." Benji said, and it took Evan a few moments to come down from his panic enough to process that. "I need you to promise that you won't say anything about what happened last year, okay? Because it was a mistake, and people make mistakes. But if you tell your parents, or your sister, then... your life will be_ over.

_"Everyone will know: your classmates, your friends, your family -_ our _family." Benji shook his head, looking devastated at the thought. "_ _It would wreck them, all over a stupid mistake... and_ _they might not even believe you. So I think it's better for both of us if you just don't say anything. Don't you?"_

_Benji was way, way, way too close. He reached out his other hand to card it through Evan's hair._

_Evan choked back a sob, and Benji clenched his hand into a fist. "Do you promise me?"_

_"I promise." The grip on his hair was tight, and the urge to call out for his parents was overwhelming. "Please just... just leave me alone."_

_He didn't want to ever have to see him again. He just wanted him to leave him alone, and then Evan could forget it ever happened._

_Benji relaxed his grip. "Good." He smoothed out the wrinkled dress shirt that Evan's mom had forced him to wear. "It's for the best. Go upstairs, I'll come up with an excuse." He straightened Evan's tie, tightening it with terrifying gentleness "I meant what I said about it being a mistake." Benji said quietly, and he almost sounded... sorry? "I miss you, buddy."  
_

* * *

"Buck? You good, buddy?"

Buck couldn't help it - he jumped, nearly poking himself in the eye with the hanger he was holding. 

"Yeah sorry man, just a little spacey." He was being silly. It was just a _shirt_. He needed to just pick one and be done with it. Even putting thought into this was dumb.

Eddie had just walked out of the bathroom, fully ready to go (he'd been ready to go for 20 minutes). Meanwhile Buck was still in his pajamas. 

Was he dragging this out?  Probably. 

And Eddie was letting him, which Buck didn't know if he was grateful for or not. Maybe he really just needed a kick in the ass.

Fuck it. He tossed the blue button down shirt on the bed and pulled on the black long sleeved t-shirt. He was going to go as low effort for this as possible.

Eddie was giving him space, just looking at his phone on the other bed. When Buck was finally ready, he looked up. "You ready?"

"I guess."

"You don't have to do this, you know. We could go to the Museum of Art today."

Buck groaned. "I can't think of anything _worse_."

"Or we could go to the Rocky steps and do the entirety of the Rocky workout - we could make a TikTok out of it for Christopher or something."

"No." Buck argued, even though that _did_ sound like fun, and also something Eddie would never agree to normally, and there was a large part of him that wanted to take advantage of the situation. "No, I want to do this. Let's go."

They were quiet on the bus ride over. Buck didn't feel like talking and Eddie thankfully had never been the type to fill empty spaces with small talk. Instead they sat in a companionable silence, which was more calming to Buck than if he'd had anyone else trying to distract him.

At the hospital, there was a whole bunch of paperwork he had to sign - and as he was voiding his no-contact order, Buck did have a weird, paranoid thought that _what if this was all a ploy?_

All that fell away when he got up to the hallway outside the room - the shades were cracked slightly, and he could see Benjamin through the window. He was just a figure in a hospital bed with tubes and wires running in and out of him, barely recognizable. 

"You want me to wait here?" Eddie asked, and Buck felt himself nodding. The officer that had escorted them up stayed back as well - and Buck went in alone.

Benji was asleep when he walked in. It was a bit of a relief, because it gave Buck a minute to adjust.

This was not the man that he remembered.

He was a good fifteen years younger than Buck's dad, but he looked just as old - maybe older. Maybe it was the cancer, maybe it was prison.

Probably both, honestly. 

After about a minute, the man's eyes started flickering open. He coughed weakly, and it was weird because he couldn't fully turn his training off, the instinct that wanted to soothe the wounded, to make sure that he was comfortable.

Luckily, that wasn't the part of Buck's brain that was driving at the moment.

Benji looked around, and his expression furrowed. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Buck wasn't sure if it was the medication, or if he'd really changed that much to the point of being nearly unrecognizable. "You know who I am." He answered back evenly.

He watched as Benji's gaze flitted to Buck's left eye. He made a choking noise, clearly shocked.

Like Buck said - _nearly_ unrecognizable. 

"I didn't think - I didn't know if you'd come." Benji croaked out, still looking stunned. 

"Me neither." 

"I - _thank you_. I wanted to -"

"No." Buck cut him off, firm. "I didn't come here so you could apologize. I don't want it. I don't want _anything_ from you."

He sat down in the chair next to Benji - Buck didn't really feel a need to stand and tower over him. There was no point in posturing - not when Benji was handcuffed to a bed, dying of cancer.

"I'm a firefighter." Buck told him, surprising himself at how calm his voice was. "Did you know that? I help people, when they're hurt and scared. I protect them. From fires, and natural disasters, and from sick people like you.”

He hadn't known what he was going to say when he walked into the room. He'd spent all morning trying to come up with what he wanted to say, even tried to write something down. 

Everything had been a blank. But now, looking down at this man who had once been the person he trusted most in the world, Buck felt the words coming out of him with barely any effort.

"That's what you told your wife, isn't it? That you were sick. Your dad hurt you, so you hurt me. But you hurt me, and I'm _nothing_ like you. I'd never, _ever_ , hurt a kid. So from where I'm sitting, your excuse sounds pretty weak to me."

"I know." Benji was crying. And fuck if that didn't make Buck angrier - how pitiful the man in the bed looked. He was so pathetic, that it pissed Buck off that this man ever held any sort of power over him. "I don't expect forgiveness."

"Good, because I don't have any for you." Buck said coldly. "And unfortunately for me, forgetting you didn't really work either.  If I can't forget, then you don't get to be forgiven. And I really... I really wish I could just be glad that you're dying. Because I should be. And I am, mostly. But there's part of me that's _sad_... and that's the part of me that hates you the most."

Because he couldn't forget.

He couldn't forget when he was six, and he was heartbroken over dropping his Furby on the driveway, and his dad had told him to suck it up, and Uncle Benji had driven with him to Target to get a new one. Or when he was eight, and his little league team had made it to the championships and his parents hadn't come, but Uncle Benji had been on the sidelines cheering him on like a mad man. Or when he was eleven, crying over the fact that his crush had made fun of his birthmark and Uncle Benji had assured him that it made him special, not ugly. 

Uncle Benji had been there for him in ways that his parents weren't. Had cared for him in ways that his parents just didn't seem to be capable of. And Buck had loved him for it.

And that was the part of him that was sad to see Benji dying, looking small and weak in the hospital bed. Because he could easily imagine an alternate reality, where these past few weeks had gone very differently.

In that parallel universe, the first call came from Jenny. They were still married, and Buck still called her Aunt Jenny. Buck would've asked for the time off, and when Bobby asked if they were close he would've answered differently. He wouldn't have signed any paperwork at the front desk, and Benji wouldn't have been sitting here with a padded handcuff. 

Buck would've held his hand and they would've laughed and joked and reminisced. He would have wanted Benji to be proud of him, to tell him all about his life in LA as a firefighter. He would have talked about Christopher, maybe even shown Benji the photos of them at May's graduation party, and bonded over what it was like to love a kid that wasn't technically his.

But none of that would ever happen. 

"I trusted you more than _anyone."_ Buck told him, his voice starting to break now. "And you - you took that from me. And that's what you should be sorry for. Because I know you cared about me, but you still hurt me. And I'll never be able to understand that. Because I'm nothing like you."

Benji was still crying, but he nodded. "Good." He said hoarsely. "I'm glad."

"I don't care." And it was only as he said the words that Buck realized they were true. "I don't care if you're proud of me. I don't care what you think of me. In fact - _don’t_.”

For the first time, Buck looked away from Benji and toward the window. Through the blinds he could see Eddie leaning against the wall, hands tucked into his pockets. Buck was unsurprised to see Eddie fixing Benji with a glare that suggested he was considering leaping through the glass and just putting the dying man out of his misery.

But, he seemed to sense Buck's gaze, because his eyes shifted and softened slightly. He nodded, and Buck felt himself nod back with a smile.

In a few minutes, they were going to walk out of the hospital, and in a few days fly back home. And Buck was going to go back to work, go back to his family and friends. 

Meanwhile, Benji was just going to be laying here. With nothing to do but think about what had lead him here, filled with regret. Thinking constantly about the worst moments of Buck's life. Reliving them over and over until he died.

And that was the thought that he couldn't stand.

"I'm gonna walk out this door and I'm not going to be able to forget about you, but _you_ can. For the rest of your short, miserable life, you can forget about me."

"I don't know if I can."

" _Try."_ Buck insisted. "And if you can't... then at least forget about the kid that you used to take to the movies. And the kid who was so terrified you that he couldn't even _breathe_. Because both of them are gone. If you're going to remember me, then you have to remember me like this: a grown man looking you in the eyes, and saying that he hopes you go to hell."

And with that, he stood up and walked out of the room.

* * *

They didn't speak on the bus ride back to the hotel.

Halfway through, Eddie reached for his hand.

_You know why redwoods can grow so high?_

Buck didn't pull away.

_They move and bend with the wind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW:  
> Dissociative episode.  
> Misplaced guilt and feelings of shame.  
> Discussion and allusions of past sexual assault (rape) of a minor. No specific details are recounted, but the word rape is used.  
> Discussion of repression of sexual assault, and unhealthy coping mechanisms.  
> Flashback involving a non-violent encounter with the abuser - it's not the initial assault or the one when he was 15, but the "Thanksgiving" memory. There are implications of past sexual assault and implications of the threat of future sexual assault.  
> And finally...  
> Confrontation between abuser and survivor. 
> 
> This is a long chapter. I initially meant to break this up, but I felt like I needed closure by the end of it just as much as Buck did.


	8. An unexpected complication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "God I love you."  
> "Is that directed at the coffee or at me?"  
> "Both."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are hitting the home stretch people!

On Friday, Buck's mom texted him asking if he was planning on getting their stuff, or if they were planning on just leaving it there until the next time he came back in a decade.

"I can get it, you don't need to worry about it." Eddie offered, but Buck shook his head.

"No, I'm not going to avoid them anymore." 

Now that he'd managed to see Benji and knew he wasn't going to completely fall apart, the prospect of getting into a confrontation with his parents didn't worry Buck as much as it had. 

The black pit that had been sucking him ever since he got that first phone call was still there - but it felt like maybe it was receding a bit?  At any rate, he felt equally lighter and stronger, more like himself than he had for weeks. 

Buck took the bus out to Doylestown by himself, the first time he'd truly been independent the whole trip. As much as he deeply appreciated Eddie being here through all of this, it was a nice break to just have a little time to himself. 

He occupied himself with meaningless memes, scrolling mindlessly through social media. He hadn't called anyone from LA except Maddie since he'd arrived in Pennsylvania, so it was nice to catch a glimpse of everyone's mundane lives. 

Bobby had posted a blurry photo (he was still terrible at social media) of Athena's cooking on Facebook with the hashtag #wifegoals. Hen had a hilarious twitter thread going about her ongoing battle with Geffen Hall's vending machine, featuring cameos from Karen and Denny. Chimney and Maddie had a joint live-Instagram revealing their latest ultrasound.

Buck had been mostly keeping to himself during the trip, but he replied to all of their various stories and threads, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at how quickly his responses were engaged with (either with the "thumbs up" emoji from Bobby, who didn't know how to use the Facebook reactions, or a quick-witted reply from Hen).

Whatever happened with his parents, his people - his _family -_ were waiting for him back in LA.

It was a short but surprisingly expensive Lyft ride from the train station. Between that and the bus ticket, this little trek out to retrieve his and Eddie's stuff (which was mostly clothes) may not have even been worth it. 

But maybe this was about more than just the clothes.

His mom answered the door, her face in a tight defensive line. She looked over his shoulder. "Where's Eddie?"

"Decided to give him the day off." Buck joked. 

Now their roles were reversed - Rachel was the one who was all bundled resentment and pettiness, and Buck was the one keeping it light. Except he wasn't doing it out of some need to keep the peace. 

He honestly just didn't feel like being miserable anymore.

Buck hadn't been sure if she was going to just toss the bags at the door and slam it on him, or if she would make him come inside so that she could trap him with into a fight. Now, as she pursed her lips and turned on her heel, wordlessly indicating that he should follow her, Buck figured he should have known which tactic she'd take.

His dad was watching TV in the living room as he passed. Buck gave him a cursory wave and was a little surprised when he didn't even get an eye-roll or even a glare back.  Thomas was incredibly protective of Rachel. Basically half of the "fights" they'd gotten into when he was kid (which mostly consisted of Buck losing his shit and his dad tearing him to pieces without even raising his voice) had been because his dad felt like he needed to step in during a fight between Buck and his mom. 

Eddie's stuff was already neatly packed away, the guest bed perfectly made up. Buck would think that his mom had done it if he didn't know Eddie - there was no way Eddie would have ever left someone else's house even for a day trip without making sure everything was pristine. So all he had to do was grab Eddie's duffle and head upstairs to Maddie's room.

His mom was already up there, picking up his shirts off the floor and folding them neatly on the desk. 

"You don't have to do that." Buck told her, starting to make Maddie's bed. "It's going in the laundry when I get back anyway."

Rachel ignored him, picking up another shirt. "Can you strip the sheets instead of making it back up?"

"Sure." 

They worked in silence for a few awkward minutes. At the end of it, they just stood across the bed from each other, both of them clearly expecting the other person to say something.

Buck cleared his throat. "Look, I know I should probably apologize for what I said the other day. And I am sorry - that wasn't the right time or place to do that. And y'know - probably not the right way to say it. But I'm not going to lie and say I didn't mean it."

Rachel picked up his bag, but didn't hand it to him. "So... that's it then?" She asked sharply. "That's what you flew across the country for. To tell me that I'm a terrible mother."

"No." There was no point in lying anymore. "No, I didn't come here for you. For either of you. I came here to see Benji."

She flinched back, like he'd slapped her. "You... _why?"_

"It's just... something I needed to do."

It felt like there was an uncrossable gulf between them. That even if Buck did understand now why he'd done what he did, the thought of putting it into words that his mother would understand seemed impossible. 

Rachel nodded. "You really do hate me, don't you?" 

He didn't know how to respond to that.

She threw his bag at him, and practically ran out of the room, tears stinging at her eyes.

Buck felt like shit. "Mom, wait-" He called after her, catching up with her at the bottom of the stairs, but she shouldered past him and headed for the TV room. "I didn't say that-"

"You didn't have to!" She shouted, still walking away. "I can see it on your face, every time you look at me. You hate being around me. Whenever I call you can't hang up the phone fast enough."

"That's because you never have anything good to say!" He shouted back. "What am I supposed to talk to you about? You always change the subject when I talk about work, you don't want to hear about it! I can't talk to you about relationships, because when I do you find a way to pick apart literally _everything_ that I'm doing wrong. What are we supposed to talk about?"

"You didn't tell me about Christopher!" Rachel stopped and whirled so suddenly, Buck almost crashed into her. 

"I have to find out from a _stranger_ , who - I've only ever heard you mention Eddie maybe _three times_ , as your co-worker. But he's family to you, you brought him here - and you'd clearly rather spend your time with him than us. And he tells me how great you are with him - that he trusts you with his son more than anyone else - that you're in his _will_ as Christopher's guardian? Jesus Evan - if anything happened to Eddie that boy would be _literally_ family. And I have _never_ , not once, heard you say anything about him."

Well, now Buck knew what Eddie and his mom had talked about when he walked her back to her car Tuesday night. He was sure Eddie had been well-meaning and couldn't really fault Eddie for talking to her about Christopher - he was _his_ son after all. 

The timing was just... unfortunate. 

"I didn't think you'd be interested." Buck answered honestly. "I genuinely didn't think you would give a shit."

"Don't you _swear_ at me-"

"Mom - you don't _like_ kids." He interrupted, irritated with her fixation on the wrong part of what he'd said. "When I was growing up I just thought you didn't like me, but then when I was older I saw how you were with my little cousins and I get it. You're not a kid person. _Neither_ of you are. And I'm not going to pretend that didn't suck growing up, because it did."

His mom sobbed slightly at that, pushing a hand aggressively at her eyes to stop the tears.  "I _loved_ you."

"Maybe." He conceded. "But you didn't like me."

There was a shuffling noise in the TV room and Buck looked over his mom's shoulder. Thomas was still staring at the TV, in the exact same spot that he'd been in when Buck got there. It was weird for Buck and Rachel to have a shouting match for this long without his dad intervening. 

Too weird.

"Dad?" Buck called with a frown.

No response.

He moved past his mom, who was still clearly trying to gather her thoughts for the next argument. But his focus had completely shifted, instincts taking over. 

His father was completely stationary and unresponsive, his attention transfixed on the tv. It wasn't even the news or something his dad liked to watch - it was a Vagisil commercial for fuck's sake. 

Buck knelt down in front of Thomas and snapped his fingers. His breathing shifted and his pupils changed focus to Buck.

"Dad, can you hear me?" Heart pounding, Buck relaxed only slightly when his father nodded. "Okay, can you say something?"

"Sssssure."

Oh fuck. "Can you smile?"

The right side of Thomas's mouth twitched up. 

"What's going on?" 

"I think he's having a stroke." Buck fished his phone out of his pocket, dialing the first number on his speed dial.

_"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"_

"I'm at 1523 Deerpoint Court, Doyleston. I have a sixty-five year old male demonstrating stroke symptoms, I need an _RA_ unit dispatched immediately. Symptoms include slurred speech, difficulty hearing, and left face paralysis." Buck rattled off, checking his dad's pulse.

_"Help is on its way. Do you know what time the symptoms started?"_

Buck turned his attention to his mom, who was standing a few feet away with her hand over her mouth. "How long has he been like this? Did you notice anything strange this morning?"

"No - we were eating breakfast everything was fine. He only went to go watch tv when you got here."

"Maybe fifteen-thirty minutes ago." Buck replied to the dispatcher. "Pulse is fine, but breathing is a little labored. They should have an oxygen therapy unit prepped and ready to go. I'm going to put you on speaker for a second. I'm gonna lay him down on his paretic side."

Buck set the phone down and addressed his father. "Dad," He said gently, trying to sound in-control but non-threatening. "I'm going to lay you down now okay? I'm going to lay you down on the side that's not moving, but that's okay - it won't hurt you, it's just to keep you comfortable and to make sure we can communicate."

Thomas nodded slightly, and Buck shifted him so that he was laying down on his left side.

Behind him, Rachel was wringing her hands, panicking. "Should we - should I get him water or something? Or - don't they use aspirin to treat strokes."

"No, he needs an IV, we don't want him to risk choking on anything." Buck shut her down firmly. "And he shouldn't take anything before they evaluate him at the hospital - 20% of strokes are caused by ruptured blood vessels, and you do _not_ want to give aspirin for that."

"So what do we do?"

"Wait for the ambulance and just keep him awake."

_"Yes, all of that."_ Piped up the dispatcher, sounding almost put-out. _"Let me guess - paramedic?"_

"LAFD - LA Fire Department." Buck quickly amended, remembering that the acronym wasn't quite as meaningful when he wasn't home.  "I'm not a paramedic but I work with some really great ones."

_"Well, RA unit is about 5 minutes out._ _I'll stay on the line until they get there, but just keep him comfortable and awake."_

"Will do."

* * *

The paramedics got there quickly, and immediately loaded Thomas onto the ambulance. Buck drove his mom to the hospital (there was no way she was driving), strongly resisting the urge to break any traffic laws. The last thing that they needed was to get into an accident on the way.

It did end up being ischemic instead of hemorrhagic. Luckily the doctors said that they did catch it quickly, and the prognosis was tentatively hopeful. But the first few days would be the most telling.

With that in mind, Buck had some phone calls to make.

The first was, of course, Maddie.

She had a million questions, ones that Buck hadn't thought to ask the doctor, so he ended up compromising and asking her to send him a list of questions that he'd relay to their dad's physician. He also had to talk her down from coming out to Pennsylvania ("I know I can't _fly_ but I can always _drive_.") Between Rachel being there and Buck opting to stay an extra week, they had it handled.

His second call was to Eddie, to explain why he'd been MIA for several hours, and to give him the address of the hospital.

The third call was Bobby, because obviously he needed to know that Buck wasn't going to be coming back to work for another week. 

_"Don't even worry about it, family comes first."_ Bobby insisted after Buck's third apology. _"I'm just glad you were there. I'm sure your parents are grateful too."_

"Yeah, I guess." Buck muttered. He and his mom hadn't really _talked_ since it happened. They'd just sat in silence while they waited for the doctor to come back with news - she'd at least let him hold her hand, so that was something. 

_"How are you doing? With_ everything _?"_

The implication was clear. "I'm - I'm okay. I mean, I'm worried about my dad now, but everything else is fine. I did what I originally came to do, and I'm okay."

_"Did he say anything to you?"_

"No. I told him not to. There wasn't anything I wanted to hear." He was outside the hospital doors, definitely out of earshot from his mom, but Buck still glanced around to make sure he was alone. 

"I said some things and that kind of helped, but honestly I think I just needed to _see_ him, you know? So that my last memory of him wouldn't be... that. So that instead of him just living in my head forever like this monster, I can remember him like he is now instead."

_"That makes sense."_ There was a beat. _"You know I'm really proud of you, right?"_

His chest tightened. "Thanks, Bobby."

_"I mean for going out and doing what you need to do for yourself - facing your past head on. Knowing yourself enough to understand what you need. Being brave enough to actually do it. You've always been so willing to take care of others. It makes me really happy to see you taking care of yourself. So... I know you've got your father to take care of now. But don't forget to keep looking after yourself._

_"You deserve to be happy, Buck."_

* * *

“Here.” Buck looked up to see Eddie holding out a large cardboard cup of - oh thank god, it was a Starbucks coffee. “Venti Caramel Macchiato.”

“Oh thank god.” Buck muttered, grabbing onto the coffee and holding it like it was a lifeline. “The hospital coffee is so awful.”

“How you can consume that much sugar in one drink is beyond me, but knock yourself out.”

Buck ignored Eddie’s sass in favor of taking a long gulp of coffee. “God I love you.” He mumbled into the cup.

“Is that directed at the coffee or at me?”

“Both. But seriously, _thank you._ I feel like I’m running on fumes.”

“Well, you had quite the day.” Eddie took the seat next to him. “Saving your father’s life and all.”

“Hopefully.” Buck folded his arm that wasn’t holding the coffee around himself. “The doctors are being ‘reluctantly optimistic’ since we caught it early. Still, it’s going to be a long recovery… if he _ever_ fully recovers. I mean at his age - there’s still a chance it could kill him. Or he could have severe deficits.”

“One thing at a time,” Eddie leaned his shoulder against him. “Are you still planning on flying back tonight?”

Buck shook his head. “I can’t. My mom’s a wreck. I have to at least stay until he gets out of the hospital. I called Bobby to let him know I need at least the next week off. I guess I should call the airline, see if they can switch my flight to next Friday or something. Maybe next Sunday.”

Eddie nodded, sighing. “I wish I could stay with you but -”

“No, you’ve got Chris. And work.”

“Yeah.” Eddie looked at him intently. “Are you going to be okay though?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Buck gave him a wry smile. “I can do _this_ part.”

“It’s always easier to take care of other people than it is to take care of yourself, huh?”

That reminded him of what Bobby had said earlier, about looking after himself. “I can take care of myself too.” He said. “Don’t worry.”

Eddie gave him an exasperated look. “Buck, I’ve been worrying about you since you nearly got crushed to death by that elevator and I realized _Oh no, he’s a self-sacrificing an idiot._ ”

“ _Me?”_ Buck gaped at the sheer audacity of that accusation. “You always seem to forget about the time you cut your own damn safety line and got buried beneath forty feet of rocks.”

“You would’ve done the same thing!”

“Fair enough.” Buck paused to consider. “So… maybe we’re both idiots, who need each other to keep the other in line. But I promise, I can keep myself together for a week. I’m really okay.”

Eddie regarded him thoughtfully. “You really are, aren’t you?” He sounded admiring. “I don’t know how you do it, really.”

“Do what?”

“I’ve always thought that the way to deal with stuff was just to… brush it off. Not let anything get to me. That’s what my dad taught me. Except that doesn’t always work, and I learned that the hard way.” Eddie gave a sad smile that Buck knew meant he was thinking about Shannon. 

He leaned back against Eddie, communicating without words: _I know_. 

“But you - you don’t try to brush anything off. You just crash headlong into everything.”

“I think you’re forgetting the part where I repressed my childhood trauma to the point where I can’t remember it.” Buck replied, surprising himself with how easy he could joke about it. 

“That’s different, you were a kid. But now? You let yourself feel everything. You let yourself hurt, and then you just pick yourself back up.”

Buck felt a smile tugging on his lips. “Well… a wise little man told me that he tried complaining once, and when it didn’t work he just kept swimming.”

Eddie laughed. “God, I love that kid.” He said, eyes suspiciously wet as he rubbed at them.

“Yeah, me too.” Buck’s heart ached at the memory of Christopher on the firetruck, head thrown back in laughter, pointing out every piece of debris that he saw with an excited ‘ _I Spy, with my little eye… a surf board!’_ “Hey, do you think you could do me a favor, when you get home…”

“Want me to Facetime you with him?”

“Yes, please.” 

“He’ll be thrilled. He missed you.” 

“I missed him. And… I’m going to miss you,” Buck admitted, unfolding his arm so that his hand was next to Eddie’s on the arm rest. “I don’t think we’ve gone a week without seeing each other since the lawsuit.” 

“Work will be weird this week.” Eddie agreed. “I’m sure Hen will give me shit for our codependency.”

“Hey, they don’t have room to talk. Not after the breakdown Chim had when Hen announced she was going to apply to medical school.”

Even as he said it, Buck knew it was different. Hen and Chimney were best friends, and partners, and they’d been working together for a lot longer than Eddie and he had. But somehow in a shorter period of time he and Eddie had managed to entangle themselves into each other’s lives more than Hen and Chimney had. 

Also, as much as they loved each other, Buck had never seen either of them completely lose their shit when the other was in danger.

What he had with Eddie was… special. A once in a lifetime partnership. From the moment when Eddie had looked him in the eyes and said “You can have my back any day,” he’d _chosen_ him. He’d decided that Buck was the person he most wanted by his side, through thick and thin. And he’d chosen him, again and again: at work, with Christopher, in nearly every aspect of his life.

Buck still wasn’t entirely sure that he deserved it, but he wasn’t going to question it.

He needed it too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW:  
> A lighter chapter  
> Only warning is that someone suffers a stroke in this chapter, so there is a TW for that (as well as an APOLOGY for the medical inaccuracies - I did try to do my research, but I'm not a medical professional).


	9. A little hope yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "After all the times you were worried I was going to get some girl pregnant, you really thought I was gay?”  
> 
> 
> “I’ll have you know, I watch Grey’s Anatomy religiously. I know what bisexuality is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWs at the end of the chapter

Buck tapped on Rachel’s arm “Hey Mom.” He whispered gently, not wanting to scare her. “It’s 10 pm. My turn. Time for you to go home.”

She blinked awake slowly, turning instinctively toward her husband.

“He’s fine.” Buck assured her. “He’s just sleeping. His stats are good though. I spoke to the doctor on my way, he said Dad’s doing even better than he hoped.” He fished the car keys out of his pocket. “Are you good to drive or would you like me to drive you?”

The first couple days, Buck hadn’t been able to get his mom to leave the hospital. As soon as they’d let her stay in his dad’s room she’d camped out there, refusing to leave. Finally, once Thomas had started staying awake regularly and it looked like he’d passed the biggest danger zone, Buck had managed to convince her to let him pull the night watch while she went home to sleep.

His dad wasn’t really talking yet, which the doctor said was normal. He was responding with nods and head shakes, his brain was still just resetting itself. _Aphasia,_ the doctor had called it. Which meant there would be a long road ahead filled with speech therapists and flash cards. And he might never resume his normal speech.

Which… Buck didn’t know if it helped or hurt that his dad hadn’t exactly been _chatty_ to begin with.

“I can drive.” Rachel reached forward, but to Buck’s surprise gently grabbed his wrist instead of the keys. “Can we go for a walk first?”

“Yeah, sure.” Buck set his coffee down on the bedside table - his secret weapon for his new nocturnal schedule. He followed his mom out, through the hall, until they were stepping out into the balmy summer evening.

It was so humid. Buck swatted away a few mosquitos that tried to make a feast out of his arms. That was one thing he definitely did not miss living in Los Angeles.

“It’s been so crazy.” His mom said quietly, folding her arms across her chest. “I haven’t had a chance to say thank you.”

“Yeah you have.” Buck disagreed. There had been a few moments of murmured gratitude when he brought her food, stepped in to ask the doctor specific questions she didn’t know to ask, and made sure she was comfortable at night.

“No I mean… for what you did. If you hadn’t been there, Evan.” She wiped away the tears that started to fall down her cheeks. “I don’t know how long it would have been before I noticed. So thank you.”

“It’s my job to notice.” 

She sighed heavily and Buck braced himself for a (albeit probably less intense) round three of their argument. 

“I’m sorry.” She said instead, throwing him for a loop. “For what I said. You were right, I don’t know you. Or at least, this version of you. The things I said, they weren’t for you. They were for the younger version of you. I really thought that you were doing the same thing that you did before, when you’d run off and have adventures. I really only ever saw this job as another way for you to self-destruct.”

Buck shook his head. “It’s not. I swear it’s not.”

“I know.” His mom smiled at him, with genuine warmth. “I saw it, when you saved your father. The way you were with the doctors. It reminded me of that little girl that you stopped from getting picked on when you were - nine, ten maybe? I remember picking you up from the principal’s office and you were still sitting next to her. She was way younger than you but you were talking to her, making her laugh.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that.”  It had been three guys in the grade above him. They’d stolen her backpack and were keeping it up in the monkey bars where she couldn’t reach. 

Buck had taken the backpack away from them, pushing one of the kids down to the ground in the process. And of course, being a problem kid, that had earned him a detention and a phone call home.  “I think that was the only time you didn’t yell at me for going to the principal’s office.”

“Because I was proud of you, Evan.” Rachel placed a hand on his arm, making him pause. “And I’m proud of you now. I think... I’m starting to understand. And it still scares me, because you got hurt, and you could get hurt again, or - or killed. But I can see that it’s good for you. That you’re not being reckless. You like saving people.”

“I do.” Buck agreed. “And I’m not going to lie. I... I do like the dangerous parts. But it’s just because I’m _good_ at it, and because I’m good at it I can do it more safely than most people. It makes me feel like… like I’m doing something important.”

She nodded, stepping forward again to continue their walk. Buck followed, keeping his strides short to keep pace with her. “I started seeing a therapist a few years ago.”

Well, that wasn’t where he was expecting this conversation to go. “Uh… good? How’s that going?”

“It’s good. Now. When I first started, it was a little rough.” Rachel walked a bit faster, not meeting his eyes. “Your father and I… after Maddie’s wedding, and after she stopped talking to us, when you were barely speaking to us. We almost got a divorce.”

Buck nearly tripped on air. A _divorce_? “But - but you guys love each other.”

That had always been the one constant. His parents cared about each other... more than they cared about their kids. They would never have a broken home, because his parents loved each other.

Rachel sighed, burrowing her hands in her pockets. “Yes, but that’s not always enough. When you - when I realized that we’d lost you - _both_ of you. I blamed your father. And myself. But mostly him. He was never good with words. I knew he loved me, but he didn’t say or show it enough. When you were growing up, I didn’t deal with that in the healthiest way. I was depressed. I was either throwing myself into work, or trying to find way to keep our marriage going.”

Buck’s head was spinning. His parents had _marital problems_? His mom was _depressed?_ That probably shouldn’t have been as shocking as it was - it’s not like they’d been close enough for them to let him in on their secrets. 

“We’re okay now. Mostly.” She assured him, clearly seeing the shock on his face. “I’m still seeing my therapist once a month and every once in a while your father will agree to do a joint session. He’s opened up a bit more to me. But all _this_... will be hard for him. He hates being vulnerable.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Buck was still reeling. “Why are you telling me this though?”

“Because… I started seeing my therapist after Maddie’s wedding. I’ve talked to her a lot about that weekend. And about my kids. Mostly how I failed them as a mother.”

She paused. Buck hoped that she wasn’t waiting for him to interject. He wanted to but just… couldn’t.

“You were - Evan, you were _happy_.” She choked out. “I thought you were happy. My sunshine little boy. I was - I was busy worrying about Maddie because she was pulling away from me, and I didn’t like Doug. And you seemed happy. You were starting high school and you had your sports and your friends and I thought I didn’t need to worry about you.”

Buck stopped walking. Was she…? Was she saying what he thought she was saying?

“Then we - we went on our anniversary. I thought everything was okay. Maddie was working, and your father and I were reconnecting, and you were doing fine in school, and everything was okay. And then I got _that call_.”

Her hand was on her mouth, trying to keep the sobs in.

“It was like everything stopped. I couldn’t even breathe until we got home, got to the hospital. And you were - you were _so hurt_. I wanted to scream, to go back in time so that we never left you with that… that monster.

“And then you were telling me that you _hadn’t_ been okay, that he’d hurt you before - but it was… I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that someone had hurt you like _that_ , and I hadn’t seen it. Because in my head you were okay, and how could I not have seen it? Especially because… you weren’t okay anymore. And I convinced myself that was it, that you were scared and confused and mixing things up. Maybe you even - maybe you were scared that he wouldn’t get locked up if he’d just attacked you when he was drunk.”

Buck stared at her. 

He knew. He knew she hadn’t believed him. 

But it was an entirely different thing to hear her _admit_ it.

“Why-” His voice was cracking. He cleared his throat, trying to get some control back. “If you really didn’t believe me, why did you let me go through with it? Why did you let me put him away?”

“Because he deserved it.” Rachel said coldly, her voice filled with the kind of dangerous anger that Buck recognized from the night when Bobby had gone in after Athena’s attacker with an axe. “He - I _trusted_ that son of a bitch, and he put his hands on my kid. He hurt you. And even if it wasn’t like _that_ \- he deserved to go to prison. And die there.”

Buck wasn’t sure how to process that. On some level, he’d known it was something like that. Maybe he’d thought that she was more remorseful toward Benjamin and it made him feel a little better to hear that she truly didn’t give a shit about sending Benjamin to prison. He could almost understand where she was coming from, could almost put himself in her shoes. 

The key word was _almost_.

Because if this had happened to Christopher? Or to Harry, Nia, Denny, or May? Buck would never have questioned them for a second. He would absolutely 100% be in their corner, and do whatever it took for them to get the justice and healing that they deserved.

He knew it was different. They weren’t his kids, and he wouldn’t feel like a failure for letting them get hurt (although, god help if anyone ever looked sideways at Christopher. Buck would kill anyone who even thought about hurting Chris with zero hesitation - honestly the only obstacle would be getting through Eddie, who would have first dibs).

Still. If he felt this strongly about his friends' children, why couldn’t his own mother have trusted him?

“You said you _couldn’t_ believe me.” Buck pointed out. “Does that mean that you believe me now? What changed?”

_Why couldn’t you have just believed me then?_

His mom wiped at her eyes. “Therapy.” She admitted. “It made me look back at things, re-evaluate them. See them with different eyes. And it made me realize how sometimes it’s just easier to deny something and pretend it didn’t happen, than have to deal with living with it.”

“So you believe me.” Buck repeated.

She didn’t reply, her lips trembling.

“Mom, I need you to say it.”

It was the only way they could ever move forward. The only hope of salvaging their broken and damaged relationship.

“I still don’t want to.” She admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I… I think I _can_ believe it now. I’m just - I can’t quite get my head to…”

She gestured vaguely at her head, looking lost.

Buck took a deep breath. Steeled himself. “Okay,” He said firmly, taking a step toward her and putting his arms on her shoulders. “When I was thirteen, I was sexually assaulted. I was - I was _raped_. That happened." He wasn't sure if he was saying this for her or more for himself.  "It happened because we both trusted the wrong person. And it’s not my fault. And it’s not yours. But you do have to believe me.” 

She stared up at him for a few minutes, before crumbling completely, throwing herself into his arms.

“I’m so sorry - I’m so sorry.” His mom sobbed, wrapping her arms up and around his back. Buck squeezed back, feeling like he was a kid again as he cried into her hair. “Evan, I’m sorry. I believe you. I’m so sorry. I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” He murmured into her head. “I love you Mom.”

It was thirteen years past due. 

But that didn’t mean it was too late.

* * *

His mom was too much of a wreck to drive back to the house. Buck would have offered to drive her, but he was still shaking from the emotional fallout of what had happened. So she spent the night in his dad’s room, and he sprawled out awkwardly across six waiting room chairs.

They spent the day focusing on his dad, trying to help him with his exercises. Buck felt like he could breathe a little easier around his mom. Everything wasn’t magically fixed with a hug, but it did feel like the air between them was lighter.

To his surprise, Rachel actually suggested that they go get some real food. After showering and running home for a fresh set of clothes (because they both smelled like _ass_ ), they dragged themselves to Olive Garden and were quickly stuffing themselves with the bottomless breadsticks.

It felt good to clear the air and explain to his mom what his thought process behind the trip had actually been. “I honestly didn’t want to drag you guys into it.” He said around a mouthful of breadstick.

“Evan…” She said, exasperated. “Chew your food, then eat.”

Last week, that comment would have irritated him. But now he was actually letting himself hear the maternal fondness behind her voice. Not to mention… well, he _had_ accidentally choked on bread once. 

So he chewed the bread, like an adult, and swallowed it before continuing to speak.

“I just needed to do it without feeling like I was getting dragged back into that mental space again.” Buck explained. “And I thought you would try to stop me.”

“Well, you’re right. I would’ve.” Rachel agreed wryly. They could joke about it now, with a bit of gallows humor. 

Literally. The call had come in that morning. 

Benjamin Ryder had passed away at 7:03 AM.

And Buck felt… very little.

“But I’m really sorry that Maddie couldn’t come. I know you were planning to go to LA to see her, I’m sorry I screwed up everything with my whole thing.”

Rachel shot him a puzzled expression. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I know you really wanted to see her, with the baby and everything.”

“I mean - yes. But honestly that wasn’t the main reason we were going to go out to LA. I thought you knew that?”

This time, Buck made sure to swallow his bread first before replying. “Uh, no?”

“I thought it was obvious." When Buck's face didn't lose its quizzical expression, she elaborated: "I wanted to check on you. I was worried about you, after that phone call with Laurel… it just brought up so many memories for me, I was sure it would be worse for you. I wanted to make sure you were okay. And maybe… maybe finally talk. Which we did.”

Buck gaped at her. She’d wanted to see _him?_ The trip had never been about Maddie in the first place?

“Oh.” He thought back on the trip and winced. All the assumptions that he’d made. From her picking him up at the airport to the food she’d prepared. “Sorry. I really thought you were only excited to see Maddie.”

“Evan Buckley, why would you think that? When have I ever favored your sister over you?”

“You turned my room into a gym!”

She threw up her hands, exasperated. “Because it was _bigger_. We couldn’t fit all that equipment in Maddie’s room!”

Well now he officially felt petty. Buck sighed, slumping in defeat. “Aw man. Eddie’s going to be so smug. He said you were trying, and I didn’t believe him.”

“I did _also_ want to see Maddie, so don’t go telling her that I didn’t." His mom warned. "But the timing of it all… I just thought that maybe you were feeling the same way I was after that call. And I thought that maybe you coming here, bringing _Eddie_ , that it was a sign that you were ready to let us back into your life.”

Buck nodded, then frowned. There was something odd about the way that she said _Eddie._ “What do you mean, ‘bringing Eddie’? What did Eddie have to do with any of this?”

“Oh.” Rachel shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “Well I thought he might have been your boyfriend.”

Buck slapped a hand to his forehead, flabbergasted. “My boyf- _M_ _om. Why. How?_ ”

“Why else would you have brought him?” She defended. “Well, I know why _now_ , but Evan the way that you introduced him was incredibly confusing. You didn’t tell us that he was coming, and you said he was your partner -”

“Which I corrected half a second later!”

“I thought that you were afraid to come out!” Rachel explained. “So I tried to be welcoming to Eddie, make him feel at home, so that you would be more comfortable. Then I thought maybe it was being in the house, with your father, so I took you two out to Philadelphia and thought maybe you’d tell me then and - why are you laughing?”

Buck wasn’t just laughing: he was in full-fledged hysterics. That entire time that he’d been jealous of how nice his mom was being toward Eddie. How grumpy he’d been about how quickly she’d taken to Eddie. And the entire time, she’d been trying to _get him to come out_.

His laughter must have been contagious, because Rachel joined in soon after. They must have looked like crazy people, sitting in Olive Garden having a laughing fit.

“Okay, okay.” Buck wheezed, trying to catch his breath. “But Mom, honestly… you thought I was going to _come out?_ After all the times you were worried I was going to get some girl pregnant, you really thought I was gay?”

Rachel held up a stern hand. “I’ll have you know, I watch Grey’s Anatomy religiously. I know what bisexuality is.”

He thought about refuting the label, but well…that wouldn’t be entirely true, would it? 

So, Buck changed course. 

“Good to know you’d be so accepting if that _were_ the case, but Eddie and I are good friends. I brought him because he’s the person I trust most in the world. That’s all.”

“I’m not going to lie and say I’m not disappointed.” She said with a sigh, and Buck gaped at her. “Listen, at first I was shocked, but then I realized that I really liked Eddie. I’ll admit, I got a little attached to the idea of you two together.”

Buck was pretty sure his face was as red as it had ever been as he laughed again, less hysterically this time. “I mean, you’re in luck because I plan on keeping him around, since he’s my best friend. If you do come and visit me in LA, I promise that you’ll see so much of him that you get sick of him. Christopher too.”

“Well, I’m just happy you have someone like him in your life. He’s a good man, and he obviously cares a lot about you. And you seem really happy around him.”

The conversation had taken an oddly sincere turn and it was making something in Buck’s stomach twist. “He’s a good friend.” He repeated, quieter. “My whole team is actually. You’d really like them. Maybe…” He took a deep breath. “Maybe you really could come out to Los Angeles? Maybe around Maddie’s due date? It’s between Thanksgiving and Christmas so it’ll be crazy and I don’t know if Dad would be up to it by then but -”

His mom cut him off, grabbing his hand. “I’ll be there.” She promised. “I’ll be there.”

* * *

His dad was released from the hospital on Friday, a week after he was admitted. The staff was enthusiastic about his recovery, saying that his prognosis looked good. He was starting to speak again, although it was limited to short one-syllable word sentences.

Again… as shitty as it sounded, Buck wasn’t sure how he was supposed to tell the difference between his dad normally and his dad post-stroke.

He’d moved his flight to Sunday afternoon, which gave him a day and a half to help his mom get Thomas settled into the house. To say it was a struggle would be putting it mildly. Stubbornness was definitely a Buckley genetic trait. 

Now that Eddie was gone, he’d been upgraded to the guest room, which was where Buck was sitting Saturday night when the incoming call came in on his phone. 

Buck grinned when he saw the caller ID. 

“You’re early.”

_“We’re going to catch a movie in a bit.”_ Eddie explained, swiveling the camera around so that Chris came into view. _“We’re going to see the new_ Mulan _movie.”_

“Oh, that one looked cool.” Buck waved at Chris. “You’ve seen the original though, right Chris?”

Chris sucked in a deep breath. _“LET’S GET DOWN TO BUSINESS!”_ He shout-sung.

“TO DEFEAT THE HUNS!” Buck sang back at him, and Eddie plugged his ears. 

_“DID THEY SEND ME DAUGHTERS?!”_

“WHEN I ASKED -”

“ _FOR SONS!”_ “FOR SONS!”

_“There’s no singing in this one, though.”_ Eddie interrupted them, and Buck pouted.

“Well where’s the fun in that?”

_“There’s a lot of cool swords!”_ Chris quickly assured him. 

“Okay yeah well that _definitely_ makes up for it. Are you guys heading out now?”

_“In like…”_ Eddie checked his watch, even though he was literally holding his phone. _“Ten minutes. Izzie’s going to pick us up. She decided to tag along because she’s excited for Chris to have ‘at least one badass female role model.’”_

Buck scoffed. “How can she say that, with your guys’ _Abuela_? And has she _met_ Athena?”

_“Athena’s a badass!_ ” Chris cheered in agreement.

Buck and Eddie made eye contact over Chris’s head. Buck held up a hand.

“Hey, that one’s on _you_ , buddy.”

They were still on the phone when Isabel (jr.) got there - and snatched the phone out of her cousin’s hand so that she could inform Buck about all the Diaz family gossip developments that had happened since Easter. By the time Eddie managed to wrestle the phone back, they were running extremely late and had to hang up.

Meanwhile back on the east coast it was _late_ , so Buck decided to do his “rounds” before bed. His mom had just gotten in the bath (she liked to take really long, spa-like baths that could last up to an hour) and his dad was sitting in the living room, watching tv. 

With an unsettling sense of deja vu, Buck approached his father. 

“You good, Dad? You ready for me to help you to bed?”

“Can… walk.” Thomas grumbled, which was true. He had recovered his mobility with astounding speed. But it was still not a good idea for him to attempt the stairs by himself.

“I know, but I’m gonna feel really guilty if you fall down the stairs and crack your head open.”

His dad shot a glare at him. He probably knew how much Buck was enjoying this role reversal. It felt better than it should have to be bossing his dad around for once, but Buck liked to think he was at least being nicer about it than his father had ever been.

“Fine.” Thomas agreed, and Buck bent over to help him stand up. Crouching a little, he put one arm on Thomas’s waist and guided him to putting his own arm over Buck’s shoulders. 

There was a time once when his father had towered over him. But now with age starting to wear down on his spine, he was even a little shorter than Buck was, which made this whole operation a little difficult.

Still, they managed, making it up the stairs relatively quickly. They took a pause and Buck checked his phone. 

“Two minutes. I think that might be a new record!”

His dad rolled his eyes. They’d never really seen eye to eye when it came to humor. Buck had always been fun-loving and his dad had always been much dryer - and occasionally mean-spirited. 

But really the main problem was that his dad was always operating at about a two, and Buck? Well Buck was never operating below a hundred, at any given moment.

“Why? Yell?” 

It took Buck a minute to process the question. “Oh - before? Sorry, I was on the phone. With Eddie.”

Thomas looked unimpressed.

“Well, it was his kid. They’re going to see _Mulan_ , so we started to sing _I’ll Make a Man Out of You_. You know: _let’s get down to busin-_ ” Buck didn’t know why he was explaining this, like his dad would understand this any better. “It was mostly to annoy Eddie. Kind of forgot it might annoy other people too. Sorry.”

His dad just continued to stare at him, like Buck was an alien and he couldn’t quite figure out how he’d spawned him. If he ever figured it out, Buck was all ears, because he was pretty sure he shared more in common with a golden retriever than the man in front of him.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” 

They got to the bed and Thomas actually laid down with minimal fuss. Even with the stroke, Buck was pretty sure they'd exchanged more words in the past five minutes than they had in the past five years.

So maybe there was hope yet.

“Alright.” He fluffed the last of the pillows, feeling satisfied with his work. “Your phone’s plugged in and charging. Mom should be out of the bath in like forty-five minutes. I’m going to go back to my room and read, but I’ve got my phone on high volume. Just text me if you need anything and I’ll hear it. I promise.”

He made to leave, but was stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist.

Buck turned back. Thomas quickly dropped his hand, almost like it had been burned.

“Do you need something?”

His dad didn’t respond.

He looked so small alone in the bed. So fragile.

So lonely.

Buck licked his lips. “Alright… just give me one second.”

He ran down the steps and grabbed his book from the nightstand.

This felt a bit silly. He was probably misinterpreting what his dad wanted.

But Thomas didn’t protest when Buck came back and sat down on his mom’s side of the bed on top of the covers, his back against the headboard. He just pulled out his own book from the bedside table. 

That’s how his mom found them forty minutes later, a full foot apart on the bed, reading their own respective books. She gave Buck an appreciative smile when he bounced off the bed and wished them good night.

And he could’ve sworn, for a second, he saw a smile flit across his dad’s face.

Yeah.

Maybe there was hope yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW:  
> Brief discussion of past sexual assault/rape.  
> Brief discussion of past assault.
> 
> Not a trigger warning, but just letting you guys know that this story clearly exists in an alternate timeline where COVID-19 is not a thing. These characters are going through enough, they don't need a pandemic on top of it (and I frankly don't feel like writing about it and probably won't for a long time).  
> So YES Christopher and Eddie get to go see Mulan in theaters, even though in real life LA will probably be at least partially locked down for all of summer 2020. (Not that I am complaining - I am happy to live somewhere where public health is being taken seriously. But in the meantime I will live vicariously through these characters and they will get to do all the things I cannot this summer).
> 
> Got one more chapter coming (it's more of an epilogue), then... a sequel! I'll disclose more details about the sequel in my closing notes of the last chapter, but I'm really curious to hear what your guys would hope to see in the sequel. Unlike this one that was essentially pre-written when I started posting it, the sequel is very much in planning stage. It will take place mostly if not entirely in LA, so it will resemble the show much more closely than this story. I've got a vague plot and some specific scenes already prepped, but there's a lot to fill out and a lot of wiggle room. So any feedback/or even ideas you guys have would be awesome!


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was looking like another depressing, lonely Fourth of July.  
> Then he got the text from Eddie:  
>  _Team/Family BBQ at Abuela’s place Saturday. Bring hot dog buns. ___  
> Oh thank god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! TW and a note about the sequel at the end!

The Fourth of July had always been a weird time for Buck.

It wasn’t really some weird anniversary mind-trip thing. It was just that he tended to think about it a little more around that time, and thinking about it always tended to trigger nightmares. 

Most of the time he didn’t remember them - he’d just wake up, tangled in his mass of sheets and pillows, heart racing.

Buck wasn’t really sure whether it was better or worse that he couldn’t remember the nightmares.

For the longest time, he’d make a point to get as drunk as possible on the actual day, surrounding himself with people and music and fun. But in the past few years, when his friend group had become distinctly less fratty, he’d had a harder time making actual plans for the day. 

Last year, when he’d been laid up in bed following his second surgery, had definitely been the worst. Maddie had checked in on him of course, but he was pretty sure it was just out of concern that he’d be lonely about missing out on the festivities. He’d never told her the significance of the date, never gone into enough specifics with Maddie for her to put anything together.

_This_ year, after he’d spent most of his recent time leading up to the holiday in Pennsylvania taking care of his parents, was almost guaranteed to be even worse. All of his friends would be all paired off and celebrating with their families. Maddie said she and Chimney were going to just have a low-key day at home. Buck tried to put in for an extra shift just to keep himself busy, but that was vetoed by Bobby.

So it was looking like another depressing, lonely Fourth of July. 

Then he got the text from Eddie: 

_Team/Family BBQ at Abuela’s place Saturday. Bring hot dog buns._

Oh thank god.

* * *

Isabel Diaz’s little backyard was full to bursting. There was of course the LA Diaz clan, and their various friends. Eddie had managed to wrangle nearly everyone from the station into at least stopping by, even Maddie and Chimney. Denny and Chris were gallivanting around with one of Chris’s second cousins, schmoozing as many grandmother-types as they could find into giving them extra candy.

Bobby had somehow managed to get himself put on grill duty, and he was currently supervising the production of eight hamburgers. As Buck approached, the captain wiped his non-spatula hand across his forehead.

“Too hot for you?” Buck teased. 

“Never.” Bobby twirled his spatula defiantly. “Aren’t you glad I didn’t let you take that extra shift?”

“You knew about this then?” That had been a good few days before Eddie texted him. It was a little surprising that Bobby had known about the event before Buck had… unless Buck had been a last minute invite? 

“Eddie mentioned he was trying to pull something together.” Bobby explained. “He wasn’t too sure about it. I think it was a little spur of the moment.”

That was weird. “Oh, I thought this was a family thing they did every year?” Buck questioned.

Bobby shrugged. “He said they didn’t normally do anything for Fourth of July but he was going to push for it this year.”

The stupidest thought flashed in Buck’s brain - that somehow, ridiculously, Eddie had _known_. That he’d done this for him. To make sure he wasn’t alone today.

Buck looked around at the crowded yard. That was absolutely ridiculous. If Eddie had wanted to do that, he would have just invited him over to hang out with him and Chris. There was no way Eddie would have gone through these lengths just to distract Buck today. 

Yeah, no. He needed to stop trying to make everything about himself.

He turned his attention back to Bobby, who was beginning to plate the burgers. “Can I snag one of those?” Buck asked, already reaching for a burger.

Bobby smacked his hand away. “Those are already spoken for. If you want on the list, the queue is already fifteen patties deep.”

Buck gaped at him and clutched his hands to his heart. “Bobby - not even for me?” He wheedled, as Bobby shook his head. “Really, after all we’ve been through? I’m starting to think I’m maybe not the favorite.”

“You’re not.” Hen appeared out of nowhere, elbowing him in the ribs and gleefully accepting a plate from Bobby. A plate which contained no less than _four_ burgers.

He pointed an accusing finger. “Hey, how come Hen gets _four_?”

Hen gave him an unimpressed look. “Because I’m feeding four people.”

“But Nia’s a toddler!”

“Yeah, and she’s got a special burger.” Hen pointed to a smaller, lumpier burger that appeared to have bits of apple in it. “Do you _want_ Nia’s baby burger, Buck?”

At that precise moment, Buck’s stomach let out the world’s largest growl, which caused all three of them to erupt with laughter.

“Here,” Bobby took pity on him and handed him a hamburger bun with a slice of cheese in it. “To tide you over.”

Eventually, Buck did get his burger - and a second one, and then a third one, before Bobby cut him off. Maddie and Chimney dipped out as dusk started to settle, pretending that they had other plans (but Buck knew that they were just going home to sleep). 

One by one the 118 trickled out of the yard, citing other obligations, until Buck looked up from chatting with Izzie’s new boyfriend (Antonio? Anthony?) to see that it was just him and the Diazes left.

For a moment, he wondered if he’d missed some obvious social cue that this had transitioned from party time to family time. Was he supposed to be making his way around saying his goodbyes? 

No sooner did the thought cross his mind than Chris tapped Buck’s leg with his crutch. “We’re doing fireworks!” Christopher cheered.

“We are?” Buck looked over Chris’s head to see Eddie carrying an armful of explosives.

“Fire _crackers_ and sparklers.” Eddie corrected with a shake of his head. “Fireworks are too much of a fire-hazard. We don’t have the space for it.”

“Uncle Eddie, you are a huge buzzkill.” Eddie’s second cousin Daniel called out from the corner of the yard where he, in typical teenage fashion, was glued to his phone. 

“Only you can prevent wildfires.” Buck quipped back to him with a salute that made Daniel snort.

“Cute.” Eddie shoved the box of sparklers at him. “Okay Smokey you’re on sparkler duty. I’m going to grab the fire extinguisher. Try not to burn anything down before I get back.”

“Aye aye captain.” He called back, still saluting.

* * *

Christopher was playing with sparklers.

Okay, that wasn’t entirely accurate. Christopher didn’t quite have the mobile dexterity to hold a sparkler without possibly dropping it or burning himself.

So, Christopher was playing with sparklers _vicariously_ through Buck. 

Christopher was waving his arms around and Buck was crouched down mirroring him with two sparklers in hand.

It was, quite possibly, one of the most precious things Eddie had seen in his whole life. He already had a whole camera roll of videos and live photos to preserve the moment. So now he was just leaning back against one of the pop-up tables that he’d bought last minute from Walmart, fire extinguisher at his feet. He’d be working overtime for the next few weeks to try and cover the expenses of this impromptu barbecue (not to mention the cost of his lost week when he’d been in Pennsylvania). 

But, Eddie mused as he watched Christopher trace out the Disney Channel logo and shout out “You’re watching Disney Channel!” as Buck clumsily imitated Christopher’s movements… it was worth it.

“Eddie.” 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his Aunt Josephine’s voice. She was standing at his shoulder. “ _Peppa -_ warn a man next time!” Eddie laughed nervously, clutching at his heart.

“ _Eddito,_ I’ve been standing here for the past minute, you just haven’t noticed.” Josephine cocked her head at him. “Something catch your eye?”

Eddie valiantly fought down the dark flush that he could feel creeping up his neck. “Just my charming little man.” He nodded over at Christopher.

“Hmmm.” Josephine followed his gaze, far too calculating for Eddie’s taste. They both watched as Buck lit another sparkler and spun around with it as Chris was dictating. “Your friend’s good with him.” She commented, even thought this was far from the first time she had met Buck.

“Yeah.” He ignored the tightness in his chest, unable to help the smile that spread across his lips. “He really is.”

Josephine turned back to him. “Something’s different.” She commented quietly. “What changed?”

Wasn’t that the question?

Ostensibly, nothing. 

Evan Buckley was his partner. That had been true since Buck volunteered to help pull a live grenade out of a man’s leg with him. Eddie had been prepared to go in alone, or maybe with one of the bomb squad members. But Buck had jumped in and that’s when Eddie had seen it - that beneath that bluster and cockiness was a desperate need for acceptance. 

For _belonging._

Buck was his best friend. That had been true since they’d gotten back to the station after the earthquake, and Eddie’s truck had been blocked in by a downed telephone pole. Eddie hadn’t even needed to say anything - Buck had just tugged on his arm toward his own Jeep and asked what the address for his son’s school was. 

Buck was the person he trusted most with his son. That had been true since the night that Eddie tucked his son into bed with shaking hands, terrified out of his mind at having almost lost the most important thing that had ever happened to him. And all Chris could talk about was Buck _\- Buck saved me, Buck saved all those people, Buck played games with me on the truck_. Buck, who had dragged himself through the disaster zone, practically bleeding out, looking for his son. Who hadn’t stopped to rest until he saw Chris alive and well with his own two eyes.

Buck was Eddie’s favorite person. (Well, second-favorite, of course.) He was the person that Eddie always wanted to call. To watch a movie, or grab a beer, or go to the park with Chris. He was the one that Eddie was always reaching for, whether it was to nudge Buck’s arm when he thought something was funny, or because there was an imminent threat and his first instinct was to pull Buck back from it.

Buck was the person Eddie always wanted to be with. 

In _every_ way.

That wasn’t new. He was just… aware of it now.

Eddie was aware of a lot now that he hadn’t known before. He understood Buck on a level that was so deep it hurt. He knew why Buck craved attention and acceptance the way that he did. He knew why Buck was so gentle with every child they encountered, so quick to snap protectively against any adult he perceived as a threat. He understood that Buck had been hurt, in ways that he probably still wasn’t fully aware, and that he’d be dealing with the ramifications of that his entire life. 

He knew that Buck had been abused by the person he trusted most in the world. 

And because of that, there was no way that Eddie could ever tell Buck about the thoughts that he’d been having. Buck could never know about the way that Eddie wanted him.

So Eddie was also aware that _whatever_ he might want with Buck, it was never going to happen.

* * *

Eddie Diaz was sixteen when he told his parents that he was bisexual.

His mom hadn’t cried, exactly. 

But her face blanched and she had needed several moments to process the news. 

“I’m not upset with you,” She explained, voice thick with emotion. “I’m just - oh, Eddie, I don’t want your life to be any harder than it has to be.”

“It won’t.” His father had said firmly. “You like women. That means you can be with women. You don’t need to be with men.”

“Dad, that’s not how it works -”

“That will be how it works for you.” His father put a hand on his shoulder. “Just don’t date men and you won’t fall in love with one.”

* * *

His father was a damn liar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW:  
> Vague mentions of past abuse and nightmares related to the anniversary of past sexual assault.
> 
> Closing note:
> 
> Here we are, at the "end" finally!
> 
> Originally, when I started writing this, it was going to be one contained story. But then it kind of grew legs and ran away from me, and I realized that some of the things I wanted to put into this story wouldn't fit in the timeline that made the most sense for me.
> 
> Once they got to Pennsylvania, it kind of made sense that the story would essentially end there, with maybe a final closing chapter in LA. But there were so many more angles I wanted to cover, and I missed the other main characters. Every time I tried to integrate them more into the story though, it just felt unnatural. 
> 
> And of course, I tried to move the romance faster along so that it would be some sort of "resolved" at the end of this, but those two dumbasses wanted to move at a snail's pace. More importantly, it didn't feel like the right timing. 
> 
> So here we are. At the "end" of this story and much left unresolved. 
> 
> I am currently working on a sequel. It will be set in Los Angeles, a few months after this one. The plan is to bring this storyline and these versions of the characters back into the world that we've seen well established in the show, so that we can see them in their natural habitat - at home, interacting with the other main characters, and on calls.
> 
> Because of that, the sequel will probably end up being a much larger scale than this one. I'm not going to promise that, because it's still in the early stages, and I might end up deciding to scale it back. But it's looking like it's going to be a bit more of a monster than this one. And because of certain aspects of the story (ie: us actually getting to see them do their jobs), I'm doing way more research for the sequel than I did for this one. I also would like to have the sequel completely or at least almost entirely written before I start posting it, due to the complexity of the narrative that I have planned. 
> 
> All of this is to say: it's probably going to be a hot minute. And the chapter updates will probably come at a much slower pace than this one.
> 
> When I have a date in mind, I'll update this story with an additional chapter (and possibly a sneak peak?) But I'm anticipating at least a month, possibly longer. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for coming along for this ride. Your kudos, bookmarks, and comments are all deeply appreciated, and I have been so thankful for all the positive feedback that you have given me. Thank you for giving this a chance and trusting me with this difficult topic (and with this agonizing slowburn haha). I'm glad that you've been enjoying this story, and hope that you'll enjoy the sequel as well!
> 
> As a tiny crumb, here's the planned title and summary for the sequel as it stands now (although I reserve the right to change both!)
> 
> _Burned on the Pyre ___
> 
> _  
> _It was fall at the 118. That was supposed to mean pumpkin spice lattes, Athena’s world-famous pumpkin pie, and the yearly tradition of getting bullied by children at the annual firehouse trick-or-treating._  
> _
> 
> _  
> _Instead, it was a disastrous cornucopia of Maddie’s c-section, his parents visiting, and a sexuality crisis for good measure._  
> _
> 
> _  
> _Oh, and?_  
> _
> 
> _  
> _It was _wildfire _season.___  
> _
> 
> Update:  
> I caved and created a 9-1-1 Tumblr. I'll probably mostly use it to reblog gifsets and fan theories that I like, but I might post some updates and sneak previews for the sequel as I'm working on it.  
> So, if you're interested, hit me up at https://bibuddie.tumblr.com/  
> (How that username wasn't already taken I'll never know lol)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I doubt this scenario would play out exactly like this in real life, but we're bending reality a bit here. I am not claiming to be an expert on criminal law here. This is fiction.


End file.
